


we are not alone in the dark with our demons

by alison



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, M/M, Past Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1489564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/pseuds/alison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It's a Wednesday when Nick leaves. One too many questions about his feelings for Harry Styles, one too many jokes, one too many laughs. He leaves because he can't anymore, can't pretend that's all it is: a joke. He can't play along anymore, so he walks out of the studio and gets in his car and drives, the destination not seeming important in this moment.</em>
</p><p>The last person he would expect to find him is Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are not alone in the dark with our demons

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Caitlin](http://carswinky.tumblr.com) for the beta and [Claire](http://tomlingalore.tumblr.com) for the britpick! Remaining mistakes are my own.

* * *

It's a Wednesday when Nick leaves. One too many questions about his feelings for Harry Styles, one too many jokes, one too many laughs. He leaves because he can't anymore, can't pretend that's all it is: a joke. He can't play along anymore, so he walks out of the studio and gets in his car and drives, the destination not seeming important in this moment.

He should have told them, maybe, but it never seemed like anyone's business. The quiet nights and happy mornings that had filled the better part of a year of his life were his. They weren't his coworkers', weren't his mates', weren't something he ever wanted to share.

It's fucked, too, because walking out in the middle of a show is something he'd never do. He's gone to work with spectacular hangovers, gotten sick between links and fought his way through it. Today it's like he's just given up and giving up is not a thing Nick Grimshaw does.

Then again, he gave up on Harry, so maybe it is.

* * *

He drives until London is behind him and then he keeps driving. Finding a motorway, he sticks with it, focused on a nonexistent point somewhere ahead of him on the horizon. He won't find anything ahead of him, he knows, but he can't bring himself to stop and he sure as fuck can't go back.

The only thing that does make him stop is a light flicking on a couple of hours later, telling him he's low on petrol. He's no idea where he is, somewhere between cities on a long stretch of motorway with shops and restaurants scattered in clumps on either side. The petrol station he rolls up to is small and old and connected to a restaurant with the same traits.

As he pumps the petrol, he feels himself slowly deflating. Standing still lets him process little bits of information that he'd rather just not think about. He doesn't want to think about the fact that he may be losing his job as he stands there, doesn't want to think about the rumours, doesn't want to think about the teasing words that had pushed him out of the station.

_Must be jealous, eh, Grimmy? Don't worry, I'm sure he'll come back to you._

Shaking his head, he throws the thoughts away. It's not the current headline that bothers him or the fact that it's been a month and Harry's been in America for the better part of that time. It's not the girl in the pictures that gets under Nick's skin, it's the fact that _Harry_ got under his skin. He's always been so good about keeping people at arms' length and Harry had just burrowed in. Nick's not used to feeling vulnerable, but that's what Harry's left him with: battered walls and little bruises on his heart that feel so very foreign to him.

When the tank is full, he drives the car to a parking spot in front of the restaurant, deciding that it's as good a place as any to be for a little while. He still doesn't think going back is an option, but he doesn't know what his other options are. Maybe he'll figure them out over a coffee.

* * *

He's made it through a plate of chips and two mugs of coffee and he's just as fucked as ever when he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket for what seems like the hundredth time. Digging it out, he's not sure if he has any intention to answer it or if he's just preparing to hurl it against the wall, but then he glances at the screen. Expecting it to be someone from work, he's surprised when he sees a familiar name that doesn't look at all familiar popping up on his phone.

He wonders if the restaurant has vodka as he answers, just in case. They'd exchanged numbers for a reason, after all. In case of emergency or whatever. He'd be an even bigger dick than he already is if he didn't answer.

“Hello?” he asks, stirring the spoon around in his mug. He'd added cream to his coffee purely out of boredom and restlessness, just because it was there.

“Nick?” Louis says, sounding anxious, but also sort of hushed like he wants to scream but he can't.

“That's me. Everything okay?” It's so painfully awkward because they don't do this. They don't talk on the phone and Nick would just as well skip past the pleasantries, but he's been trying to be less of an arse to the boy. His reasons for that have gone, though, he realizes.

“ _Is everything okay?_ ” Louis repeats harshly, still hushed. “Jesus, you left in the middle of your show and sent everyone up in a panic. Where are you? Are _you_ bloody okay?”

Nick frowns because he can't imagine Louis is asking any of this out of personal concern. “He there?” he asks, putting it together. The quiet tone, the anxiety, the fact that's he's calling at all.

“I'm outside freezing my bollocks off, but yeah, he's at mine. Wouldn't let him call you himself, though.”

“Good,” Nick answers, focusing on not feeling. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Nick stares into the almost coffee, the colour of it almost greyish. He can feel the grease from the chips settling in his stomach like lead. “For not letting him. Better that way.”

Louis' quiet for a moment before Nick hears a heavy sigh. “You're not okay, are you?” Nick doesn't even have to strain to hear the sincerity in his voice, which is new.

“'M fine,” he answers, not bothering to make it sound honest.

Another silence. Another sigh, almost a scoff. “Where are you?”

Nick looks around and shrugs to himself. “Jack's Cafe, looks like,” he answers, spotting the restaurant name on the wall. “Pretty sure I was driving north, if that helps you.”

“God,” Louis mutters, as if it's not meant for Nick to hear at all. “Okay, you're going to hang up and you're going to open up a map on your phone and figure out where in the bloody country you are, alright? Then you're going to text me with an address.”

Nick would laugh if he had enough air in his lungs. “And what? I don't need saving, Tomlinson. I'll come back when I want to come back.”

“Just do it, Nick,” he says impatiently, the hint of a plea in his voice. “If you don't, I'll file a missing persons report on you.”

Nick finally agrees because he's got a trend going of giving up and he may as well add this to the list. When he hangs up, he opens up the map on his phone and finds that he's just south of Nottingham. He copies the address of the restaurant and pastes it into a text to Louis.

He sends a second text five minutes later: _bring booze._

* * *

After another hour of sitting at that table, he starts noticing the dirty looks from the waitress. It's a bit ridiculous, he thinks, considering the fact that he's one of about five people in the place and he's clearly not taking up a seat someone else would be sitting in. He tosses a few notes on the table anyway and leaves, the chair not terribly comfortable and the coffee gone cold.

He sits in his car instead. He's still not sure what he's waiting for. He's not sure that Louis, or anyone, is actually coming, but he sits there and waits anyway, pushing his seat back and staring at the roof of his car.

Trying not to think doesn't work out very well for him, not when he's sitting in silence, staring at an expanse of grey felt above him. The one thought that keeps popping up is that he lost one of his best mates, his favourite mates. That's what really sucks. He lost him and he's fairly sure he's not going to get him back. They'd made sure to fuck it up as catastrophically as possible at the end.

He's lost in a stream of quiet thoughts when he hears a tap on the window. He has no idea how long it's been, but when he looks toward the noise, he sees Louis, huddled in on himself, a hoodie wrapped tightly around his small frame. Glancing at the clock on the dash, he sees that he's been sitting there for over an hour.

He rolls down the window, letting the outside chill into the car. “Hey,” he says, not understanding this day at all. Louis is the last person he would have expected to come find him.

“You absolute knob,” Louis says in lieu of a greeting. “I'm getting in, it's fucking freezing out here.”

Nick watches as he moves around the car and slides into the passenger side. Nick rolls the window up again, locking the little remaining warmth inside the car as Louis settles, turning to face him.

“You're just sitting in your car,” he says flatly, as if it's a question.

“Not sure where else to go,” Nick answers, sliding his hands up onto the wheel. “Besides, you made it seem like maybe you were doing something stupid like driving out here.”

Louis laughs a little, a sound that doesn't seem to fit into this conversation, but Nick appreciates it anyway. “Well, right about that one, weren't you?”

Nick attempts a smile, but it doesn't quite work, so he nods instead. Louis sighs next to him and Nick makes no attempt to say anything because he's not sure what this is all about anyway.

“Are you going to come back to London with me then?” Louis asks quietly, as if he already knows the answer.

“Don't reckon,” Nick replies automatically, the words so unnecessary. They both already know it.

Louis nods and, although Nick's not looking, he sees the movement out of the corner of his eyes. “Spotted a hotel an exit back. What do you say we get a room and get pissed on the booze you requested and I try to get you to talk about your feelings?” He makes a face at the end, cringing like the idea of it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

When Nick laughs, it takes him by surprise. It's just a little chuckle, but it's more than he'd thought possible even a minute ago. He holds onto it as long as possible, letting the smile fade away, but keeping the feeling.

“Deal, Tomlinson.”

* * *

Once they've driven to the hotel and Louis has checked them in, they settle into the room. It's weird walking into a hotel room with no luggage, but Louis at least has a bag full of liquor, so they've got that anyway.

It's a simple room, not dingy, but not anything like the hotels Louis is probably used to. There are two beds, a nightstand between them, and a large cabinet against the other wall holding a TV, as well as a few empty drawers below it. At the far end of the room, there's a counter with two sinks and a bathroom off of that.

“You weren't specific, so I brought a variety,” Louis says, spilling the bag onto one of the beds, dumping the full bottles out. “Pick your poison. I need a piss.”

Nick grabs the tequila because he handles straight tequila best. He should probably grab one of the little plastic cups from next to the sinks, but he screws off the cap and brings the bottle to his lips instead. It seems appropriate to drink straight from the bottle in this situation, getting drunk in a hotel room in the middle of nowhere with Louis bloody Tomlinson. He turns off his phone when it sounds yet again, knowing he won't be answering any calls anyway. He sits down on the bed, dropping his phone onto the table next to it.

“Should've at least brought limes,” Louis says once he's come back into the room, staring down at the assortment of alcohol. He chooses the rum and, when he takes a sip, he makes a face. “Or some coke,” he chokes out. “Definitely should have brought some coke.”

“There's a shop across the street,” Nick says after taking another swig from his bottle. “We can pop over there for that stuff if you want.”

Louis nods and sits on the empty bed, facing Nick. “I'll probably need food soon, too. You ate, right? I'm not getting a depressed man drunk on an empty stomach?”

Nick frowns, moving up the bed and leaning back against the headboard. “I'm not depressed,” he says honestly. He's not depressed, not suicidal, not bloody anything except tired of his life and the way it's been going. And sad, maybe, that he lost the best part of that life, but he's not depressed.

“Okay,” Louis says slowly, like he's trying hard to believe Nick. “You're sort of acting like it though.”

“I'm acting sad,” Nick corrects, tapping his socked foot against a bottle of whiskey lying on its side. “You can be sad without being depressed.”

“I'm aware,” Louis answers, taking another sip of rum before exhaling loudly, the alcohol clearly burning his throat. “But you walked out in the middle of your show and irresponsible is not one of your many terrible qualities. At least not in regards to your career.”

Nick rolls his eyes at the insult, used to them by now. They used to rile him up, the little quips that Louis can't seem to hold in when speaking to Nick, but now they inspire no such feelings. He barely even hears them.

“Fair point,” he concedes, because it's something he's been thinking all day. That's how he knows how bad it is. “Still wouldn't say depressed, though. Just. Stretched thin, maybe.”

Louis stares at him long enough that Nick starts to feel uncomfortable under the gaze. There's nothing unkind in his eyes and that throws Nick off, seeing something like compassion there instead.

“I don't get it,” Louis finally says, his voice quieter now. “The way I heard it, you broke up with him. So why all the misery?”

Nick wonders how much he _did_ hear. Probably all of it, knowing the two of them, but he finds himself hoping Louis doesn't hate him for any of it. He knows Harry better than to think he'd lie about what actually happened, but these things are always subjective. And there's always one person who comes out of it looking like a bigger asshole.

“More alcohol,” he says, pulling the bottle in his hand to his chest, resting it there. “Before we go there, I'm going to need to consume more alcohol.”

Louis nods, as if he wasn't expecting to get answers yet anyway. “More alcohol,” he agrees, raising the bottle of rum in a mock toast. “Then feelings.” He takes a swig of the liquor and shudders visibly at the taste, cringing.

Nick laughs again, shaking his head. He already feels the tension starting to melt away.

* * *

“No, bloody- _don't!_ ” Louis yells, grabbing Nick's arm and pulling him back as he makes to cross the road.

Louis laughs at him when he stumbles back, a car whizzing by and blowing a gust of air over them as it does. “I could've made it!” he insists, straightening out his shirt where Louis had tugged it askew.

“You're drunk. No running into traffic for you.”

He's not _that_ drunk, though, and he's probably not as drunk as Louis. He's just buzzed enough to forget about everything that drove him out of London, the things that have led to he and Louis spending the afternoon together in a hotel room. It's an odd day.

“Okay, let's go,” Louis says once a lorry has thundered by.

Nick follows him across the road, his limbs feeling loose and his path not entirely straight. The shop ahead of them is flooded with neon light and Nick squints as he approaches, stepping inside behind Louis.

“Okay, so, food,” Louis says, like he's in charge. “Let's get a basket. Or, no, let's get a trolley.”

“How much food are you planning on eating?” Nick asks, face scrunched up as he watches Louis grabbing the handle of the trolley and moving further into the shop.

“I didn't eat lunch and I just drank half a bottle of rum. You are not allowed to judge my food intake.”

Nick shakes his head and follows along, the lights of the shop assaulting his eyes. He can't believe it's barely even dinner time. “Not even close to half a bottle, Lou.”

Louis pauses and looks over his shoulder at Nick, smiling a thoughtful smile. He doesn't say anything, just hesitates for a moment, then turns to face ahead again.

“What?” Nick asks as Louis grabs a loaf of bread and drops it into the trolley.

“Nothing,” Louis says quickly, shaking his head. He picks a jar of peanut butter off the shelf and tosses it in as well. “Just, only my friends call me Lou.”

Nick hadn't even realized he'd said it. It just slipped out. “Oh, sorry.” He's not sure if an apology is in order, but he feels oddly unsettled, embarrassed by the slip. He'd heard Harry call him Lou so often that it probably just stuck in his head.

“No, it's fine,” Louis insists, shaking his head. “It's good.”

Nick follows behind Louis silently as he weaves through the small shop, dropping items into the trolley every once in a while. He thinks about the slip and Louis saying it's good and he suddenly wonders if they're friends. The hostility in their relationship had dulled long ago, but they've certainly never spent time together willingly. And definitely never just the two of them. But now, here they are, far away from London, just the two of them. Maybe they actually are friends.

Once the trolley is half full of various snacks and mixers for their booze, they check out and head back across the road, hands full of plastic bags. Nick is quiet, thinking about the day and the month and the year, wondering if there's any point to all of it. Louis must be busy thinking, too, because he's fallen silent for the most part as well. Nick knows him well enough to know that silence is not exactly common for the lad.

An hour later, there's a giant mess of food and half-empty bottles on one bed and Nick is propped against the headboard of the other, his buzz having thickened. He spreads his legs in a wide V and watches Louis sit at the foot of the bed between his feet.

“Feelings,” he says, cradling his plastic cup filled with rum and coke. “It's time, come on. Out with it.”

Nick sighs, having known he wouldn't be able to put it off much longer. That's why Louis is here, after all. It's not just for a bit of fun. They're not _really_ friends, probably. Louis just wants to get him back to London so he can reassure Harry that everything is okay. He stretches his neck and nods, psyching himself up to actually talk about it.

“In secondary school, I was so awkward. I mean, I had lots of friends and stuff, but I had crushes on blokes I could never get and I forced myself to pretend I didn't like them.” He swirls his vodka tonic, the ice almost all melted. Louis doesn't interrupt even though he's spouting nonsense and Nick doesn't look at him. “I actually tried to convince myself I didn't like them. And then uni came and blokes started offering, but I still did that. I still acted like I didn't care about any of them. It just stuck. So, I would sleep with boys and not call and, for a little while it made me feel good. Better about myself or something. But then it was just what I did and I spent years refusing to let myself really like someone.”

He takes a sip from his drink and waits for Louis to prod him along, tell him to get to the bloody point. Louis is silent, though, and Nick wonders if he's even listening, so he looks up, curious. He finds Louis staring at him, waiting, and when their eyes meet, Louis nods a little, like he's encouraging him along. Nick wonders again if they're friends. He thinks they could be.

“Harry felt like my one shot, you know? He was the first person I said 'I love you' to. He was the first person I let into my life in a real way. It was scary and I knew if I couldn't make it work with him, I probably couldn't make it work with anyone because he's bloody perfect, you know? He's obnoxiously perfect and I still managed to fuck it up.”

Louis looks thoughtful as he listens, not reacting except for the slight furrow of his brow as he processes what Nick is saying. But now that Nick has stopped, he shakes his head a little, like he's confused.

“You weren't the only one to fuck it up, though, yeah? Harry said he did his part.”

Nick shrugs, because he knows they both contributed to it. But he can't help but think that, if he was any good at relationships at all, it wouldn't have gone the way it did. He wouldn't have let Harry's shit be the excuse he used to end it.

“It doesn't matter, in the end. It's over and he's moved on and it's fine except that I miss him like mad and our friendship will never be what it was.” He takes a long drink from his cup, emptying it. His head feels fuzzy. He wishes it felt fuzzier.

“So, you're still in love with him then?” Louis asks quietly before he takes a sip from his own drink.

When Nick looks up, Louis isn't looking at him this time, licking the rum away from his lips and dropping his gaze to the bed between them.

“No,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. “I still love him, I really do, but it's not like it was when we started dating. I just. I miss spending time with him, like we did before it got all complicated and messy. Back when we first got to be good friends. That's what I miss.” He sighs, managing to swing his legs off the bed without hitting Louis, and stands. “I miss, like, not knowing what it feels like to fall in love and then out of it again,” he says as he grabs the bottle of vodka and pours a healthy splash into the cup. He tops the liquor off with some tonic, drops in a couple of ice cubes from the little plastic bucket they'd filled, and turns back to Louis. “Feelings are the worst. I hate them.”

Louis quirks his lip up into a half-smile and pushes himself of the bed as well, facing Nick. “Well, I agree with you there,” he says, nodding, then takes a step closer. “I'm going to hug you now and I want you to really appreciate it because I'm not a hugger, okay?”

Nick barely has time to widen his eyes in surprise before Louis is closing the final few inches of space between them and wrapping around him. Nick doesn't know why Louis is hugging him, but as soon as he is, he knows he's not going to bother questioning it. He sets his drink down on the table behind him, then leans into Louis, holding onto his waist. He's warm and soft and smells good and Nick takes a deep breath, feeling some more of his tension slip away, the tension that not even alcohol could diminish.

“Do you feel any better than this morning?” Louis asks into his shoulder, words soft and muffled and only slightly slurred.

Nick hadn't thought he would, but in this moment, his answer is definite and sure. “Yeah,” he answers, tucking his chin down over Louis' shoulder, his fingers catching in the boy's t-shirt at the base of his spine. “I really do.”

His whispered _thank you_ is barely audible, but he knows Louis hears it.

* * *

By the time night falls properly, Nick is starting to lose the drunk feeling. Instead, he's lying on the bed, a dull buzzing in his bones and an aching exhaustion cloaking him. It's been a long, weird day and the shadows falling over the room seem to sink into his skin, nighttime settling in his mind.

Louis flops down next to him and Nick scoots over to accommodate his unexpected bedmate as the boy flicks off the lamp next to them, leaving the room dark.

“The other bed is covered in food,” Louis says, shuffling under the covers. “If you don't want to sleep with me, you can clear it off yourself.”

Nick has no interest in cleaning right now, much less standing up, so he just settles on his half of the bed as Louis shifts next to him, getting comfortable. When the rustling of blankets is silenced and they both fall still, Nick can only focus on the warmth next to him. He knows it's the alcohol but it feels so inviting, like he needs to get closer to the boy next to him. Instead, he pushes himself onto his side, turning toward Louis. It's almost pitch-black in the room, though, and he can't see anything.

“Hey,” he says quietly, too sober to ask without being a little uncomfortable, but too buzzed not to ask at all. “Why did you come?”

It's silent for a beat before Louis turns, too, and Nick still can't really see him, but he knows he's close. “I don't actually hate you, you know,” he says, his voice rough from drinking and talking, but still with that high pitch that's so Louis. “Didn't really fancy you being stuck out here alone and depressed.”

Nick smiles a bit in the darkness, tipping his face down. “Not depressed.”

“Ah, yes, that's right,” Louis answers in an exaggerated whisper. “Just sad, right?”

“Right,” Nick answers, not sure if he's imagining it or not when he feels Louis move closer, leaning into him. The warmth seems to have doubled now. “Better now, though.”

“Yeah?” Louis breathes out, the warm air hitting Nick's chin.

Nick shudders a bit and it's just the alcohol, all of it is the alcohol. He hums his agreement, swallowing the noise when Louis' hand slides onto his side, resting over his ribs. He breathes shallowly, trying not to disturb the moment, not to make a move in either direction.

“C'mere,” Louis whispers, sliding his hand to Nick's back, pulling him closer.

Nick can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he goes willingly, lets Louis pull him until their chests are pressed together. He knows how close Louis' lips are to his, can feel every warm puff of breath, the other boy's breathing seeming to come faster now, too. It takes about two seconds for Nick to move in, two seconds to throw caution to the fucking wind.

He presses into Louis' lips lightly at first, feeling it out, but when Louis lets out a little pleased sound, he presses in harder. Louis' lips taste like liquor in the best way and Nick thinks he could get drunk all over again just from kissing him.

He's the first person he's kissed since Harry and it's so, so different. Harry's kisses started like questions, like suggestions. Louis' kiss is assertive, a bold statement against Nick's lips. It's a kiss that matches his personality, completely.

Nick is still drunk enough to decide that this is a really good idea and he rolls into Louis, pressing him back against the mattress. Their mouths move in sync, wet lips curling around wet lips, the gentle scrape of teeth and the soft swipe of their tongues. It's a good fucking kiss and Nick is no longer thinking at all.

“Wait,” Louis breathes out, pulling away from it.

Nick freezes, wanting so much more, but he's not going to push if Louis doesn't want to do this. He waits, feeling Louis' fingers bump against his chin, knuckles sliding up his jaw. He wishes he could see him right now. He wants to know what's showing in his eyes.

“Wait,” he says again, more evenly now, then hesitates for a moment, an air of nervousness in the silence. Nick does as told, waiting until Louis finally speaks again, his voice whispered. “You can't pretend I'm him.”

He feels a bit of guilt that he can't explain then. He can't tell what the guilt is connected to, who it's connected to, but his reply is honest nonetheless. “Wasn't planning on it.”

If Nick wanted to pretend someone was Harry, he could go pick up a strange boy in a bar. Louis is so Louis that no one could ever pretend he's anyone else. And Nick finds himself liking that, being drawn in by the boy under him. He doesn't want to pretend. Tonight, in this moment, all he wants is Louis.

“Okay,” Louis finally says, then tilts his head up to kiss Nick again.

This time there are hands sliding over his skin, pushing his shirt up as they go. Nick hums his interest into Louis' lips, wondering exactly where this is headed. He's not sure, but if Louis in bed is anything like Louis in life, Nick doubts he'll get much of a say.

“Take this off,” Louis breathes, pulling away from Nick's lips to tug at his shirt.

Nick helps him, slipping it over his head, then drops it on the floor next to the bed. “Your turn,” he says, his fingers finding the hem of Louis' shirt in the dark.

When Louis lifts himself up to take off his own shirt, Nick starts to think the darkness is less sexy than it is annoying. He wants to see Louis like this because he suspects it's quite a sight. Louis has never been hard on the eyes and, even though he'd never actually actively wanted him like this before, he's always appreciated the boy's beauty. He wants to watch that beauty uncovered inch by inch.

“Close your eyes,” he says, then leans over to click the lamp on, at which Louis squawks and turns away, covering his eyes. Nick sighs impatiently, saying, “I told you to close your eyes,” and shaking his head.

“I don't take direction well,” Louis says, peeking out from behind his hands a little at a time. It gives Nick enough time to look over his body, taking in his small, lean frame. He was right in turning on the light because the boy under him really is something to see.

“You lead then,” he says, dragging his gaze up to Louis' eyes, now uncovered and watching him. He brings a hand to Louis' bare skin, trailing his fingers up over the bumps of his ribs, his thumb catching on Louis' nipple. Louis exhales a long breath as Nick drags his hand down again, down the middle of his stomach to his belly button.

“Take off your trousers,” Louis commands gently, his voice soft.

Nick feels his stomach flip a bit and he rolls away from Louis to slide his trousers down. He pushes the material down over his heels, kicking it away entirely, then turns to see Louis doing the same. When he's left in his pants, too, he lies next to Nick, turning onto his side. Nick can feel him, so warm where he's pressed along the side of his body, and he wants to just climb on top of him and suck little bruises into his neck and down his chest, wants to touch him everywhere. But he waits because that's not how this is going to go. Louis is going to lead. Yet another reason Nick couldn't possibly pretend this is Harry.

Louis pushes himself up to kiss Nick again, his smaller body half on top of Nick's as they snog. Nick gently nips at Louis' bottom lip, drawing a squeaky moan out of him. The sound makes him hum his own moan into the kiss, wanting to hear more. Louis sounds as good in bed as he does on stage, completely wrapped up in the moment, and they've barely even gotten started.

Their lips stay pressed together when Louis slides his leg over Nick's, pressing it between Nick's legs. Nick groans at the contact, doing his best to keep his hips planted on the bed instead of bucking up like he wants to do. His cock is filling out slowly but now, with Louis' thigh pressing up against it, the process seems to start speeding up. When Louis grinds his leg down in a slow circular motion, Nick can't help it anymore. He lifts his hips, seeking out the friction.

“Like that,” Louis whispers around Nick's lips, nodding a bit.

Nick swallows heavily, digging his heels into the mattress, and he pushes his hips up again, sliding his now hard cock against Louis' thigh. It should be embarrassing or something, fucking up against this boy's leg, but it doesn't feel like that at all. He can feel Louis' dick pressing against his own hip through their pants and it's just hot, their bodies so close that Nick can feel the sweat starting to form between them.

“Do you feel better?” Louis asks, grinding down against Nick, his leg rubbing between Nick's legs and his cock sliding against his hip. Nick slides his hands down Louis' sides until they reach his hips. He grips them tightly, pulling him in as he pushes his own hips up, his eyes rolling back at the incredible friction.

“Yeah, better,” Nick agrees, groaning when Louis moves to his neck, biting as much as kissing it. “You're very- very good at cheering up.”

Nick can feel the smile against his neck, followed by sharp teeth pulling at his skin. He hisses, stretching his neck to give Louis more room. Within moments, though, Louis is lifting himself up and the friction is gone from his cock. He wants to protest, but then Louis is straddling his hips and he decides he can wait a moment because whatever is happening is sure to be good.

“Can I touch you?” Louis asks, settling his bum over the tops of Nick's thighs, their dicks close, but not touching. He drops a hand, though, and runs the pad of his thumb along the outline of Nick's cock through his pants.

Nick nods quickly, placing his hands on Louis' thighs, feeling the stretch of his muscles under the skin. He looks amazing like this, tan skin and tattoos. Nick spots one he's never seen, low on his hip where the waistband of his pants his slipped down, the outline of a heart with a jagged line running down the middle. A broken heart.

It makes Nick's chest tighten suddenly, makes him feel like an arse for making Louis come out here and coddle him all night. He wants to know how old the tattoo is, wants to know the story behind it. Now isn't the time, though, because Louis is peeling back his pants and Nick loses his breath as Louis takes him in hand.

Louis smirks a bit, his eyes lidded and his skin flushed. “Impressive,” he comments quietly as he pulls his hand up, fingers curled around him.

Nick bites down on his lip, watching as Louis gives him a few slow strokes before bringing his other hand to the bulge in his own pants, rubbing his palm over it. “Let me,” Nick says, sliding his hand up from Louis' thigh and nudging his hand away as he slips his fingers over the hard length. He wraps his fingers around it as well as he can through the pants, wanking him as Louis thrusts his hips forward, chasing the touch. After a minute, Nick thinks that's enough teasing and he loosens his fist, finding his waistband instead.

Louis nods, either his permission or just encouragement, and Nick pulls the elastic down, letting his dick pop out from the fabric. The hand on his own dick has slowed and he bucks his hips up again, needing more. But, just as he's about to grip Louis properly, Louis shakes his head.

“Let's- like this,” he mumbles, leaning forward and propping himself up with one hand by Nick's shoulder. Shifting his hips, he rocks forward until their cocks sweep against each other and Nick moans embarrassingly at the feeling, even more so when Louis uses his small hand to grip them both, lining them up. He can't get his fingers all the way around, can only really manage to get them pressed flush together. It's enough, though, to make Nick's mouth drop open in a silent moan as Louis starts sliding his hand over them.

“That good?” he asks, hovering over Nick, his voice breathless.

Nick snaps his eyes open from where they'd fallen shut at some point and he looks up at the face above his, in disbelief that this day has ended up here, like this. From rock bottom to having Louis' cock squeezed against his own and soft fingers stroking them together.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, bringing his own hands up to pull Louis down by the neck. “Yeah, that's good. That's so good,” he mumbles before pressing his lips into Louis', kissing him with little coordination. It's more breath than tongue, but Nick slots his lips around Louis, just to feel them as he gets closer and closer.

He wants to touch, though. It feels so good like this, Louis getting them off, but he's probably never going to get a chance to touch Louis' cock again and he can't let the opportunity slip away. So, he moves his right hand between their bodies, sliding it down to where Louis' got a hold of them. He doesn't want to interrupt the rhythm Louis' built up, but he thumbs at the head of the other boy's dick, finding it wet with precome.

Louis shudders, his hips jerking forward, and that's as good for Nick as it is for the other boy. “Fuck, take it,” Louis insists, letting go of his own cock and wrapping his fingers around Nick's alone, pumping him faster now that his hand isn't so stretched out.

Nick doesn't need to be told twice, fitting his fingers around Louis, feeling him throb in his palm. He matches Louis' rhythm and can tell he's close from the way it strains in his grip. Nick kisses him again fiercely, messily, his hips rocking up into the boy's touch. Louis moves with him, letting him fuck up while still wanking him quickly. It only takes a few more seconds, a few more swipes of Louis' fingers before he comes, releasing a throaty noise into Louis' lips as he shoots between them.

Louis strokes him through it until Nick's hissing from the contact and then he lets go, holding himself up, dropping his face into the crook of Nick's neck. Nick keeps his hand moving, wanting so badly to make him come, too, and Louis grips his arm, breathy noises spilling over his skin. It only takes another minute or so before he's breathing out _yeah_ over and over and he freezes, his cock spilling wet in Nick's hand. Nick slows his touch, pulling gently as Louis empties himself, adding to the come between them.

“Fuck,” he groans when he's finished, rolling off of Nick and dropping onto the bed beside him.

Nick takes a moment to breathe, his hands a little shaky from the whole experience. He still doesn't understand how this came to happen, but he knows he can't overthink it. All he's done for the past month, probably even longer, is overthink things and it's done him fuck all good.

“That was great,” he finally says, turning his head.

Louis turns his, too, his lips parted around heavy breaths, and he nods. “Not bad,” he agrees, giving a little smile.

Nick nods, too, and mentally gathers all of his remaining energy to pull himself out of bed. He feels less drunk now, but he's also fairly sure that once he closes his eyes for more than a moment, he'll pass out. He just wants to get the come off his stomach before he lets himself do that.

With his cock tucked back into his pants, he heads to the sink and gets a flannel wet with warm water. When he's got himself cleaned up, he rinses the flannel and brings it back to the bed, finding Louis lying there with his eyes closed, his pants still pushed down over his hips, softening cock still exposed. Nick smiles and hesitates for a second before leaning down and gently wiping the liquid away from his stomach. Louis' eyes open slowly, peeking down at Nick before they close again, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Lazy tit,” Nick remarks softly, cleaning up the last of the come. He carefully pulls Louis' pants up to cover him, then pinches his hip.

“'S me,” Louis agrees without opening his eyes.

Nick rolls his eyes, tossing the wet flannel in the general direction of the sink. If he gets come on the floor, he'll leave a generous tip as an apology, but right now he just wants to get into bed. He rounds to the other side and flops down, earning a grunt from Louis.

“Light off,” he says, flipping onto his side and fluffing the pillow under his head.

Louis grumbles, but pushes himself up to flick the lamp off, coating the room in thick darkness again. Nick sighs, settling in, glad that he's too tired to think anymore.

“Hey, thanks,” he mumbles into the silence of the room. “For, like, all of it.”

He's not expecting it, but after a moment, Louis shifts and his hand bumps into Nick's cheek. “You're welcome,” he says hoarsely, obviously tired, before he leans over and presses a soft kiss to Nick's lips.

It's unexpected but it's really nice and Nick kisses him back for a moment, liking the way it feels. It doesn't last long, though, and soon Louis is dropping back and saying goodnight.

And it is, Nick thinks. It's a pretty good night.

* * *

He wakes up on his stomach and with what feels like all of Louis' weight pressed against his back. He feels sweaty and the slightest bit hungover and he desperately needs a piss, but there is a boy on top of him and Nick stays still for a few minutes, trying to decide how to get out without waking him.

Part of it is that Louis did a pretty big, selfless thing yesterday and Nick feels a bit indebted to him, but part of it is the inevitable awkward moment when they wake up in bed together after getting each other off the night before. He hates that moment, hates pretending it's not awkward when it really is. If he can avoid it, he's going to.

In the end, he does a weird scoot-roll move and he actually manages to get himself out of the bed without waking the boy. Louis frowns in his sleep and hugs Nick's pillow instead, then falls still. He's cute when he's sleeping, actually. He still looks sort of petulant, even unconscious, but it's all softened and warm. Nick resists the urge to take a picture, reminding himself about the big, selfless thing Louis did and remembering that he's not actually a complete prick.

He goes straight to the bathroom, has a piss, then showers. He doesn't have a change of clothes because he wasn't planning on staying overnight. Or, rather, he wasn't planning on leaving at all. Either way, all he can do is shower and then put on the same alcohol-infused-sweat-scented clothes and drive back to London as quickly as possible to get properly clean.

When he walks out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, Louis is sitting up in bed with the laminated sheet of hotel information in his lap, rubbing his eyes.

“They don't have room service,” he laments sleepily.

Nick has to laugh a little at that because he wonders when Louis last stayed in a hotel without room service. “Lots of hotels don't have room service,” he says, sitting on the corner of the other bed, the only clear spot on the bloody thing. It's completely covered in half-empty packages of biscuits and crisps and other various food items, along with the remaining booze.

“You know what they do have?” he says dryly. “A phone number for a local pizza shop. Thank god for that.” He rolls his eyes and tosses the sheet aside, tipping over onto his side on the bed. “You're good to go home today, right? All fixed up?”

Nick fights the urge to make a joke about how well Louis fixed him up because, well, that could invite in the awkwardness he hates so much. So he just sighs and runs a hand through his wet hair, nodding even though Louis isn't looking. “Yeah, I'll go back. See if I've still got a job. Probably not, considering I'm missing work again right now.”

Louis flops onto his back, his head at the foot of the bed now, and turns to look at Nick with tired eyes. “You still have. You called in sick.”

Nick narrows his eyes, not understanding. He's quite sure he hasn't lost any memory of the night before and he definitely doesn't remember making any work calls.

Louis rolls his eyes, then closes them. “I called Matt. Told him you needed a day off or whatever.”

“When?” Nick doesn't remember Louis making any calls and they were together all night.

“When we drove here from that restaurant,” he explains. “I figured since we were going to a hotel to get smashed, you probably wouldn't be making it into work this morning.”

Nick is a bit stunned, honestly. It feels a lot like Louis was looking after him and that was before they even really talked. He feels bad for making Louis take time out of his life for this, to take care of him. It's doesn't seem right, considering they're barely friends anyway.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, ducking his head down.

Louis pushes himself off the bed with a grunt, taking the few small steps toward Nick. “It's really no problem,” he says, patting Nick's bare shoulder twice as he walks by, then disappears into the bathroom.

Nick shakes his head to himself, still reeling from everything. He wonders if this makes them real friends, if they'll actually spend time together once they're back home, back to the real world. Probably not, he guesses. With him not speaking to Harry, there's really no point.

With a sigh, he grabs his phone from the table and turns it on, deciding that he should start getting back to the real world. He's surprised the thing doesn't explode with all of the texts and notifications that pop up.

“Fucking life,” he mumbles as he scrolls through them, ignoring most, but reading anything that might be important.

He doesn't see the words _you're fired_ at least, so that's something.

* * *

“Do you think the tip was enough?” Louis asks, holding a leftover bottle of liquor in each hand as they walk out of the room.

“It was fifty quid, mate, I think it was enough,” Nick answers, walking down the little sidewalk toward their cars. “Reminds me, though, I forgot to check if there was come on the floor.”

Louis turns to him with wide eyes, his cheeks going just a bit pink. “Why would there be come on the floor?”

Nick internally kicks himself for bringing it up and prays it won't get awkward. “The flannel I cleaned us up with. I threw it, but I never looked to see where it landed.”

Louis seems to understand, his mouth forming a silent “ah” as he walks on.

Nick stops at his car, the closer of the two, and Louis stops, too. In order to avoid an awkward goodbye, he fiddles with his keys as he speaks. “Hey, what did you tell Matt, by the way?” he asks, glancing up. “Just because he doesn't know anything about Harry. No one really does.”

Louis tilts his head to the side, the corner of his lip curling up. “Yeah, I know. I just told him you weren't feeling up to being on radio and that you'd call him once you were. So, you know, call him.”

Nick nods slowly, looking down at his keys again. “Alright, well, thanks. Again. For everything.”

He's really doing a crap job of not being awkward. Luckily, Louis just smiles and rolls his eyes, taking a step forward. He holds out the one of the bottles, vodka, and shakes it at Nick. “Take this. You'll probably need it at some point.”

Nick puffs out a laugh, nodding to himself. He probably will, honestly. “Thanks for that, then, too,” he says, taking the bottle.

“No problem,” Louis says, nodding once as he takes a step back. “Have a safe drive back home.”

“You too,” Nick answers, giving him a smile before turning to his car.

He's got the door open when Louis calls out again, from the other side of his car. “And, Nick. You're through the worst of it, mate. The rest won't be so hard.”

Nick just stares as Louis turns to slide into his car with one more smile. He remembers the broken heart on his hip and thinks that maybe he's speaking from experience.

He's not sure the thought makes him feel better, but it does make him feel something.

* * *

Walking into his flat after the past couple of days is sobering. It's hard to believe any of the last 24 hours happened at all when he steps inside the familiar space with a deep sigh. In a random hotel room, he could avoid thinking about everything. It's harder to do here when his place is filled with memories. It's hard not to think about the past year of his life when scenes of it are imprinted on every piece of furniture, smeared across the walls and hanging in the air.

He really did fall in love with his best friend. And he really did lose him.

He spends the day sending texts, assuring Matt that he'll be at work the following day and letting his friends know that he is indeed alive and that he does not indeed want to talk about it. He's got three voicemails from Collette that he puts off listening to, not wanting to hear how worried she's probably been.

For once in his life, he stays away from the internet. He's sure no one outside of his friends cares about his sudden disappearance on the show the day before or his absence this morning, but he doesn't fancy taking any chances. If there is anything said about it, it's likely to be something along the lines of _Grimmy Has Break Down After Pictures of Harry Styles and New Girlfriend Pop Up_ , which to be fair might not be entirely inaccurate, but it doesn't quite capture the truth of the situation.

He watches sitcom reruns instead, barely moving from his spot on the sofa. He feels lonely even though he's alone by choice. He doesn't really fancy seeing people because he's been less than bubbly for a while now and he reckons this is probably the last straw. People will want him to talk and he doesn't want to or need to. Even though he and Louis hadn't talked much, he feels like that was all he needed. He just needed to tell one person, just needed to say the words once.

He goes to bed early, wanting to be well-rested for his performance the next morning. He's already got his lie all planned out.

* * *

Walking into the studio the next morning, he takes a deep breath and forces a smile for the receptionist as he walks through. He's met in the hall by a frantic Matt, who looks like he can't decide whether to punch him or hug him.

“Where the bloody hell have you been and why the bloody hell did Louis Tomlinson call in sick for you?” His voice is lowered, but almost growled, his teeth clenched tight around the words.

Nick forces a laugh, shaking his head as if this is all so silly. “It's a funny story, but I'd better save it for the airwaves, Finchy,” he says dismissively. “Sorry for the extra stress, though, mate.”

Matt stares at him like he's got two heads as Nick walks into the booth and starts getting ready for the show. Everyone who passes by seems to be staring, honestly, but Nick pays no attention. He was prepared to get sacked, so he'll take a little staring.

The show starts normally, but before long, Matt asks. “So, you had a bit of time off, didn't you? Care to let us know what you've been up to?”

Nick steels himself for it, throwing on his fake smile. “I did run off quite suddenly there, didn't I? It's actually quite a great story. So, in the middle of the show Wednesday, I realized that I'd left my coffee in my car. I know you're thinking that's stupid, but hear me out! It was coffee I bought on holiday and it was ridiculously expensive. I couldn't just waste it!”

He can hear as he goes on about the non-existent coffee how his voice sounds, all high and squeaky, and he just tries to keep it up. It's all just a big joke, just like everything else.

He claims that once he got to his car, it was being towed for being parked illegally and he had to get it all sorted before he could come back.

“Then why is it,” Matt asks, also clearly trying to make this sound light and funny, even though the glint in his eye is fierce and questioning, “that I got a call from a certain pop star saying you couldn't make it in yesterday?”

Nick tries so, so hard not to let his face fall as the words come out of Matt's mouth. He tries, but there's a split second where he loses it, swallows heavily, because he sure as fuck doesn't want Matt, much less all of London, to know he was with Louis, but he's not an idiot. Every single person listening will think Matt's referring to Harry. Of course they will.

He gathers himself quickly, needing to carry this conversation in another direction. “Oh, you mean Conor?” he asks, eyes flashing a warning at Matt as he keeps his tone light. “Yeah, just ran into him, didn't I? Went out for a few too many, I'm afraid.”

He's able to use it as a segue into the next track, bumping Conor's latest up to the next slot. When the song starts, he looks up and sees Matt staring pointedly.

“No more about it,” Nick says as he fiddles with the playlist, busying himself to avoid eye contact.

Matt doesn't bring it up again, but he doesn't stop staring either. Nick ignores it easily.

* * *

After the show, Nick slips his phone out of his pocket and sees a text from Louis. It just says _conor, hm?_. Nick smiles a little, shaking his head to himself as he unlocks his car from a few feet away, then slips into the driver's seat. Opening up a reply, he pauses, still not really clear on how to treat him. Everything over the past couple of days has made him think they've officially crossed into friends territory, but he still feels like he has to be careful with him.

 _Seemed like the safest bet,_ he types out, chewing on his lip.

He sends the text then drops his phone on the passenger seat, driving away. When he gets home, there's another message waiting for him. _mhmm. let me know if you need any more cheering up xx_

Nick stares at it for about five minutes, standing just inside the door of his flat. He stares so long that his mind travels back to that hotel room, to Louis' hand wrapped around him, Louis' mouth on his. Taking a shaky breath, he stares at the words on the screen, trying to figure out if that's what they mean. He's not sure. He eventually replies with a simple _I definitely will_ , not wanting to say much else in case he's reading the subtext all wrong.

The problem is, it's Friday. He has a full weekend ahead of him, several offers to get together with mates, but he doesn't want to agree to any of them. He'll have to face them soon enough, but he doesn't want to do that yet. But he also knows that if he sits around alone all weekend, he'll get even more in his head than he has been.

He makes it through the day alright, but when the sun starts to go down, he just wants someone there. He remembers nights like this a couple of months ago, when Harry was gone for weeks at a time. He remembers sitting around his flat and feeling the emptiness of his arms, the space not taken up by his boyfriend. He could distract himself then, though, by going out and getting pissed, hugging Aimee all night and letting her fill that space for a little while. Now he doesn't want to do that. He's alone and it's fine, except for how it isn't.

Shuffling into the kitchen, he sees the bottle of vodka on his counter and he stares at it, trying to figure out what's so different about Louis. Why he doesn't want to be with his mates, with anyone, really, except for a brash little boybander with a sharp tongue. It's the last person he would have seen himself finding comfort in and yet, here he is, itching for him and him alone.

He takes a sip from the bottle for courage, then pulls out his phone. He doesn't read any of the other waiting texts, just skips straight to Louis' name and starts typing.

_Don't suppose you're free to do any cheering up tonight, huh?_

It's stupid to even suggest it. Of course he's not free. It's a Friday night and he's a proper celebrity and it's stupid, but Nick takes the chance anyway. He has to.

He distracts himself from the dark screen of his phone by mixing a proper drink, adding a bit of diet coke to the vodka. He sips from the glass, keeping his phone in the corner of his eye where it's sitting on the counter. It's not going to light up and he tells that to himself over and over, that he'll be spending the entire weekend alone. It'll be fine. He's got plenty of Breaking Bad left to watch on Netflix.

Fifteen minutes after sending the text, it lights up with a response. He picks it up, expecting an apologetic refusal of some sort, but what he reads is: _at zayn's now finishing up a game. can be there in an hour, maybe hour and a half?_

Nick suddenly feels guilty, wondering if Louis sees him as a charity case. He wonders if Louis thinks he's gone suicidal, like asking him to come over was some desperate plea. It wasn't, is the thing. He just likes being with Louis, whether they're fucking or walking around a shop or sitting in his car. Louis seems to take some of the weight off his shoulders, off his chest.

_If you're busy, don't worry about it, he texts back. Not a big deal, just bored._

The reply comes quicker this time, just a couple of minutes before it flashes on the screen, a photo and a text. It's what Nick can only assume is an extreme close-up of his nipple and the words: _shut up i'm coming._ Nick smiles as he reads it, still worried this is charity, but feeling more optimistic about his evening nonetheless.

* * *

When Louis arrives, it's just after nine o'clock and Nick has at least made his place look decent, if not spotless. He answers the door and Louis looks small in the doorway, the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his head and a knapsack on his back. He smiles as Nick invites him in, walking through the doorway and into the flat.

“Alright?” Nick asks, closing the door.

“Good, mate, you?” Louis replies, already toeing off his shoes and sliding his knapsack off his shoulders.

“Good, yeah, listen, you really didn't have to drop everything to come here,” he says, watching as Louis drops the knapsack next to his shoes. “I'm not, like, on the ledge or anything.”

Louis rolls his eyes so quickly Nick barely even catches it before he purses his lips and looks into Nick's eyes. “Do you want me to be here?”

Nick shifts his weight to his right foot, then back to his left, digging his hands in his pockets. This whole thing is absurd. “Suppose I do,” he admits with a shrug. “But, like, only if you want to be here?”

Louis' pursed lips stretch out into a smile and he shakes his head a bit, taking the few steps to Nick. When he's close enough, he pushes his arms up, clasping them behind Nick's neck. He's so close and Nick feels his stomach flutter at the intimacy. He can't figure this out, what exactly it is that's happening here.

“I appreciate that you think I'm so selfless,” Louis says, eyebrows lifting up in amusement. “But I promise you I would not go out of my way to spend time with someone I've never been close with just out of pity.”

Nick nods, a little dumbly, not sure what to do with his hands. Carefully, he slides them around Louis' waist, letting them rest at the small of his back without squeezing him or pulling him closer. He wants to ask what's in it for him, why he wants to be here of all places, but the words don't make it out of his lungs.

“Did you want to talk?” Louis asks quietly, then leans forward, close enough that Nick has to close his eyes. He feels a light kiss at the corner of his lips and then warm breath as Louis speaks again. “Or just get your mind off it?”

A shudder runs down his spine and he can't even form words. He was hoping for something like this, but he hadn't let himself be too hopeful that it would happen. And now, here they are in his entry, and Louis hasn't even been here three minutes and Nick can feel his breath, insistent against his lips like warm waves. He curls his fingers into Louis' shirt and takes a deep breath himself, nodding.

“Mind off it,” he finally answers. “Definitely that one.”

Louis hums a happy little noise and tugs Nick down to meet him, lips pressing into lips. It's even better like this, without the majority of a bottle of liquor in his system. His memories of the night in the hotel room had been a bit of a blur, fatigue and drunkenness smudging the edges of it, but this is sharp and clear. He feels every inch of this kiss, every movement, every second.

Nick breathes out into it, bringing a hand up to the back of Louis' head to kiss him more firmly. Louis' kiss is still assertive and he finds Nick's bottom lip, sucking gently before his tongue is flicking into Nick's mouth. He tastes as good as he smells, like boy and warmth, and Nick runs his tongue over Louis', seeking out more of the taste.

When Louis pulls back a minute later, his chest heaving against Nick's with every laboured breath he takes, Nick has to force himself not to whine at the loss. “See?” he says, exhaling. “Not selfless at all. Just trying to get in your pants.”

Nick laughs, a sharp puff of air, and presses his face into Louis' shoulder, shaking his head. “Don't have to try very hard for that, do you?” he mumbles around his smile, pinching Louis' side.

“No?” Louis mumbles, softer now. Nick almost gasps when he feels Louis' hand slipping down between them, fingers finding the button of his jeans. “I can just go for it then?”

Christ. They're still standing next to the front door and Louis' fingers are popping the button open on Nick's jeans and this is fucking ridiculous. He nods anyway because Louis seems to be waiting for a response. “Yeah, yeah,” he breathes out, not quite sure what else to say.

Louis grins, leaning back as he pulls the zip down, flicking his eyes up to Nick's. “Right then,” he says softly, “let's see to you.”

And then he's carefully dropping down onto his knees and Nick presses back into the wall behind him, staring down in disbelief. If this is pity, Louis goes all out. _God,_ he hopes it's not pity.

Louis tucks his fingers into Nick's waistband and pulls, sliding his jeans and pants down together. Nick can only stare, watching his hard dick pop out right in front of Louis' face. He watches Louis' expression closely, looking for any hint that he doesn't actually want to do this, but what he finds is pretty spectacular. Louis smiles a little smile, sliding his palms back up over Nick's bare thighs. He licks his lips, eyes flicking from Nick's cock up to his face.

“Thoughts?” he asks softly. “Feelings? You good with this?”

Nick looks at him as if he's mad, which he might just be. He's on his knees for him, _Louis Tomlinson_ is knelt in front of _him_ , and he's asking if it's okay. If Nick had a clearer head, he would point all of this out, what a mad question that is. Instead, he nods and says “good” like a proper idiot.

It's enough for Louis, anyway, and when he moves in, parting his lips wide around Nick's cock, the only word left is the _fuck_ that spills out of Nick's throat.

* * *

“Why do you have a globe?” Louis asks, his toes tapping against Nick's thigh. “You do know google maps exists, right?”

Nick drops his head against the back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. He's kind of an idiot, is the thing. Louis is kind of a twirpy little thing and he's so different from Nick in so many ways, but he's still a little fuzzy from Louis sucking his cock just about as good as anyone has ever sucked his cock so he keeps those thoughts to himself.

“I just like it,” he replies with a sigh. “I like having the world in my living room.”

He keeps his head back as Louis shuffles around next to him, still a bit dazed and happy to not move.

“Aww, Nick,” Louis says softly, right over his ear. “You think the world of me? You charmer.”

Nick rolls his eyes hard, but can't quite keep himself from smiling at Louis' antics. He's an idiot, but he's a pretty cute idiot. And the fact remains that he's the only one Nick wants to be with in this moment.

“You're ridiculous,” Nick mutters, trying to force the corners of his mouth down.

“You knew that,” Louis replies, reaching up to pat Nick's cheek. “Now what shall we do while we wait for you to be ready to go again? Telly?”

Nick lifts his head at that, turning to see Louis grabbing the remote and settling into the other end of the sofa. “Go again, hm?”

Louis hits the power button and the telly comes to life with a clicking sound. “Yes, I have plans,” he says distractedly, not even looking up as he flips through the channels.

Nick doesn't ask what those plans are and he definitely doesn't imagine what they could be as he stares at the telly without really watching what's playing on the screen.

* * *

An hour later, after the episode of Friends they'd been watching ends, Louis wordlessly switches the telly off and turns to Nick, his cheek resting against the back of the sofa. Nick waits for him to say something, but the boy remains silent for a long moment, his bottom lip just barely bitten as he looks back.

“What's up?” Nick asks, not sure what this silence is about, but feeling the need to fill it either way.

Louis smirks a bit at that and scoots closer, one of his legs bent between them, pressing into Nick's leg, the other hooking up over Nick's lap. “I could be,” he answers softly, shrugging. “If you wanted to get me started.”

Nick rolls his eyes over another chuckle, shaking his head to himself. “So lame,” he mutters, looking back into Louis' eyes. It's lame, but effective, and Nick finds himself reaching down to press his palm to Louis' crotch. He's conveniently in joggers and the flexible material allows Nick to feel out the outline of his dick, even soft.

Louis just smiles as Nick touches him, dropping his cheek against the back of the sofa again. He's really very attractive, even more so up close. Nick remembers when One Direction first got big, back when he and Harry were just starting to build their friendship. He remembers flipping through a teen magazine with Aimee and pointing out Louis and telling her he was his favourite before he'd even met him.

But then he got to know Harry and his favourite changed. Not that it was a fair competition.

“Can I ask you something?” Louis asks, his voice softer than Nick would expect for a boy having his cock fatten up under someone's fingers.

“Sure,” Nick answers, trying to match his tone.

Louis bites down on his lip as Nick slides his hand down enough to rub over his balls through his joggers. “Why am I here? Why not one of your many other friends?” he drops his own hand, the backs of his fingers grazing over Nick's wrist. “Why did you text me?”

Nick doesn't stop touching him, trails his fingers up over the more defined length of Louis' hardening cock. He stares into Louis' eyes, not sure how to answer the questions, not sure what the answers are at all. “I don't know. I don't know why I texted you,” he finally says. “And I definitely don't know why you came.”

Louis' expression doesn't really change, calm and considering, with just a hint of lust in his eyes. After a moment, he stands without replying, stepping directly in front of Nick. Nick watches as Louis peels his shirt off, then pushes his joggers down, leaving him naked. Usually boys have to be _doing_ something to look so sexy, but Louis just has to stand there and Nick can feel excitement flooding his veins.

“Take your clothes off,” he says softly, nudging his chin forward.

Nick is sort of in awe of the boy standing in front of him. As he gets his own kit off quickly, eager to see what the rest of the night holds, he can't stop glancing up, eyes flicking from Louis' face to his stomach to the hand that's resting on his cock, barely moving. This Louis seems different from the one he knew as Harry's best mate, the loud, obnoxious, rude one. There are still traces of that Louis, but this one is much more complex. This one is fucking impossible to figure out, but this one also makes Nick want to try very, very hard to do just that.

Once he's stripped down to nothing, Louis falls down over his lap, knees spread around Nick's thighs. Nick feels his cock jolt a bit, just having Louis naked on his lap. His hands move without hesitance, needing to touch him, run over his sides and down his legs.

“So, about these plans,” Nick prompts, dragging his thumbs up over Louis' stomach, his skin so soft and warm everywhere.

“Right,” Louis says, his voice just a touch hoarse. Nick doesn't know why that is, but it's fucking sexy regardless. “Yeah, see, I was thinking it'd be nice if you fucked me?” Nick has to try not to groan at that, letting Louis continue on. “I could ride your cock just like this if you want,” he says quietly.

Nick hasn't put his dick in someone in a long while and, fuck, he wants. He really wants and he wants _Louis_. He grips Louis' hips, feeling the flesh give under his fingers, and nods. “That- yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.”

It's frustrating because he wants it right now, wants Louis to sink down on him, around him, but they're missing some important things. “Have to get up to get lube and a condom,” he mumbles, not quite ready to have Louis move away from him, but knowing he'll have to get up sooner rather than later.

“Hold on, I brought some,” Louis says, leaning over the side of the sofa to grab his knapsack from where he'd moved it earlier.

Nick can't help but smile a little as he pulls the items out, realizing that he actually packed them. He's not sure, maybe Louis keeps them in there all the time, but he doubts it. “Really are just trying to get in my pants, aren't you?” he says as Louis drops the condom next to them, popping the cap on the lube.

“Yep,” Louis answers, giving him a soft smile. “And, look at that, got what I wanted.”

The little quips Louis dishes out, the little things that make Nick want to roll his eyes also make him feel something like happy. He's taken aback when he realizes how much he likes the way Louis instigates banter and he's even more fond when he thinks back to how silent Louis had been, listening to Nick talk two days ago. He actually does know when to turn it off and when to turn it on and it makes Nick think he actually cared about his shit Wednesday.

“Real hardship for me,” Nick says, aiming for a dry tone, but Louis' got his own fingers slicked up and he's reaching around behind him.

Nick can't see it, but he can watch it play out on Louis' features. His mouth drops open just a bit, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and Nick knows exactly what's happening. He moves his own hands over Louis' body, fingers curling around his curves as Louis releases the tiniest little noise with his exhale.

As Louis keeps going, Nick watches silently, eyes wide and focused unwaveringly on Louis' face. He sees the second finger being added, sees when Louis momentarily brushes against his prostate. He sees it all on Louis' face as if he's reading a detailed description of what's happening. He's never really done this, just watching without actually being able to see it happen. It's almost hotter than doing it himself. He doesn't even have to ask how it feels because he knows, he can see that Louis is making himself feel good.

“You're being very quiet,” Louis notes, meeting Nick's gaze. His skin is just slightly pinked up in spots, his voice just slightly breathless.

“Just watching,” Nick replies offhandedly, staring hard into Louis' eyes, watching for them to flicker when Louis gets a good angle.

Louis laughs, air puffing out through his smiling lips. “Pegged you as the type to talk straight through films.”

“Not the good ones,” Nick answers, dragging his fingertips down Louis' thighs, just barely letting his fingertips scrape against the skin. “Not the very best ones.”

Louis' smile lingers on his lips, only breaking when Nick can see that's adding a third finger, his eyelids slumping before he forces them up again. Nick stares shamelessly into his eyes as Louis rocks back onto his fingers, staring right back.

Nick is confused. He doesn't understand any of this, why Louis wants him, why they can hold eye contact like this, just watch each other as some sort of foreplay. That's exactly what it is, it's fucking foreplay; his dick hasn't gone even a little bit soft in the time he's been watching Louis open himself up and Louis is still hard, too. He thinks about reaching down to touch, but he's not sure Louis needs the encouragement. He's not sure of much right now.

“Condom,” Louis says, nodding to where it's sitting on the sofa next to them.

Nick's hands feel a bit numb as he reaches for it, ripping the package open. He focuses on getting it rolled over his cock instead of the little hums coming from the boy on his lap. Once he's smeared a good amount of lube over himself, he scoots down a little, giving Louis a good angle.

Louis finally pulls his fingers out and, when he wipes them on the upholstered arm of the sofa, Nick makes a note to gripe at him about it later. Now's not the time. Instead, he just grabs Louis' hips without guiding, just to steady him.

Before he moves, though, he stills, looking Nick in the eye. There's a hesitation there and Nick swipes his thumb against his skin, starting to think that maybe Louis is going to back out. Maybe he's realized he's wasting his time with Nick or, fuck, he doesn't know.

“You still can't pretend I'm Harry,” he finally says, his voice quiet but determined.

Nick stares in disbelief, part of him wanting to scream and part of him wanting to pull him closer, to kiss him long and hard until _neither_ of them is thinking about Harry. “God, I'm not,” he says instead. “I wouldn't.”

Louis looks for a long moment, not quite believing, but not quite disbelieving either. He just looks until he nods once, saying, “okay, good.” And then he's moving, shuffling forward to center himself right over Nick's cock.

“Don't move until I say,” he orders softly, grasping Nick's dick with one hand and holding onto his shoulder with the other. “Haven't done this in a spell. Might need a minute.”

Nick feels bad now that it didn't even occur to him to ask. Louis' sexuality has never been defined for him before and all Nick's ever known of his love, and sex, life is what the papers say and what Harry's said in passing. And none of that has ever involved another bloke.

Before he can think too much longer on it, Louis is lowering down and Nick's dick is squeezing into him and, _“fuck.”_ He groans it out, feeling Louis' muscles clench around him, fluttering like he's trying to force his body to take it.

Louis is silent as he works on slowly getting himself seated, having to lift up an inch or so before he can lower down another couple. Nick's toes curl as he forces himself to be patient, to let Louis do what he needs to do. He forces himself to stay completely still, lip bitten and fingers pressing harder into Louis' hips.

“Alright?” he checks once Louis has settled his bum against Nick's hips and Nick is completely buried.

Louis' eyes are closed now and he nods without opening them. “Yeah, good,” he replies roughly. “Just- yeah, don't move yet.”

Nick wouldn't, not until Louis asked him to, but the pressure on his cock is insane and Louis' muscles keep spasming, tiny little contractions that take Nick's fucking breath away. He waits, though, and soon enough, Louis moves. He doesn't just lift himself up, though; he rolls his hips forward in a motion that can only be categorized as obscene.

“Fuck,” Nick chokes out again, without really realizing it. His fingernails dig into Louis' flesh, but the boy doesn't complain. He just rolls his hips again, pulling them forward and letting Nick slip out of him a bit before pushing them back and sinking back down. It feels as good as it looks and it looks really fucking amazing.

“Wow,” Louis breathes out, keeping his hips moving in a slow rhythm.

He circles them once, grinding down on Nick, and it's too much. “God, wait,” he breathes out, holding Louis still. He takes a few deep breaths, but he can still see the sinful movement of Louis' body, the way his stomach muscles tightened as he rolled his hips forward. He can still feel Louis clamped down so tight around his cock, can feel the heat of his body.

“Thoughts? Feelings?” Louis asks quietly after giving Nick a moment.

Nick smiles even though his heart is practically beating out of his chest and his cock is throbbing in Louis' arse. “I feel like I'm gonna come,” he answers, moving his fingers up to the curve of Louis' waist, feeling how small he is, how strong. “And I think that would be very bad.”

Louis smirks and leans forward, Nick's dick shifting just enough to make him groan as the boy moves. “Yeah, don't come yet,” he whispers, head dipped down so his lips fall next to Nick's ear. He pushes himself up slowly and Nick isn't sure he's completely ready, but he's not going to stop him. He can hold off. As he starts a slow rhythm, up and down, he whispers again, “let me cheer you up.”

Nick releases an embarrassing whimper as Louis moves faster, squeezing down on Nick's cock as he rides him, his face tucked into Nick's neck. As good as he feels in this moment, as glad as he is that it's happening, this isn't cheering him up. Louis walking into his flat cheered him up. Louis insulting his decor cheered him up. This is icing on the cake. Really fucking good icing, of course, but still icing.

He keeps those thoughts to himself, not wanting Louis to misunderstand. He _wants_ this, he's fucking thrilled it's happening. It just wasn't the point.

Nick is brought back to the moment when Louis fucks down on him hard, whining around his breath into Nick's ear. “Touch me,” he breathes out, the words surrounded by tiny gasps and high-pitched groans as he fucks Nick in earnest, his pace steady and his hips working forward with each slide up before he sinks back down.

Nick slides his hand down and, when he gets his fingers curled around Louis' cock, he nudges his chin against Louis' jaw. “Hey, kiss me,” he says, sliding his fingers over his dick, feeling how hard he is.

Louis finds his lips quickly, smashing into them in a heavy kiss and Nick breathes around it, swallowing Louis' exhales as the boy fucks him, his pace unrelenting. Part of Nick wants to flip them around and take over, wants to fuck Louis into the sofa, but a bigger part wants to let Louis do this. He wants to see Louis take what he needs, wants him to get himself off on Nick's cock.

Before long, he gets to see it. Louis breathes into his lips, “little faster,” and Nick follows the order, stroking him faster. Louis' own movements get heavier and lose their rhythm until he has to break the kiss, leaning back as he chases his orgasm. His eyes shut and he squints, the wrinkles at the corners of them deepening as he gets closer, muscles trembling with desperation to finish.

Nick has been holding off himself, but he knows he's going to lose it soon, so he focuses on wanking Louis at a fast, steady pace, not wanting to come before the other boy can get off. And then it happens and Nick feels the hot come hit his skin as Louis shudders his way through the orgasm. Louis slumps against Nick's chest, breathing rapidly over his shoulder, and Nick fucks up carefully, not needing much more. He comes within moments, the wetness on his skin and the boy in his lap more than enough to tip him over the edge.

He's not sure how much time passes- maybe seconds, maybe minutes- but eventually he pulls out, earning a tiny groan from Louis, the sound muffled by Nick's bare shoulder. He ties the condom off and tosses it aside to deal with once he feels like he can move. Which will be sometime after Louis feels like he can move, considering that he's sprawled out on top of Nick.

“You good?” Louis asks, sounding drained of energy.

Nick's not really sure where this leaves them. They've fucked twice now. The first time, he absolutely hadn't thought there would be anything else. It was a hookup in a hotel in the middle of nowhere. He understood. But now, there's some room for confusion. The rules aren't so written in stone.

“Good, yeah,” he says, folding his arms around Louis' back and pulling him closer, waiting to see if there's any resistance. There isn't, Louis' body relaxed in his arms as Nick pulls him closer. “And you? Are you? Good?”

Louis' soft laughter gets lost in Nick's neck as he turns his head, pressing his face into the curve. “Great now. Maybe a little sore tomorrow,” he replies, the softness of the laughter still in his voice.

Nick's hand instinctively slips down to Louis' arse, fingers tracing over the swell of it gently. He feels laughter on his skin again, feels the spasm of his muscles before he relaxes into the touch.

“How long has it been then? Since you've done that?”

“What?” Louis asks, his voice coated with fatigue. “Taken a dick?”

It's Nick's turn to laugh and he does, chuckling softly at Louis' frankness. Honestly, it's one of Louis' best qualities, even if it's probably also one of his worst.

“Precisely,” he answers.

Louis hums into his neck thoughtfully, swiping the tip of his nose over Nick's skin. “Four months? Maybe five? Something like that.”

It makes Nick feel a bit better, knowing it wasn't years ago or anything. He presses his palm flat against the curve of Louis' bum, squeezing just a bit, letting silence fall again.

After a couple minutes, Louis speaks again, his head rolling to the side until his temple is resting against Nick's shoulder. “Do you mind if I crash here then? 'M knackered.”

Nick is quite exhausted, too. Ignoring your problems is a lot of work. “Yeah, 'course,” he agrees, once again not knowing if it means anything. “If you get off me, we can even go to bed instead of passing out on the sofa.”

Louis lets out an exaggerated sigh, only actually standing up when Nick threatens to carry him to the bedroom. He leads them through the flat to his bedroom and, when Louis hops into bed naked, Nick shrugs and climbs in with him, naked as well.

“Did you want to talk about anything?” Louis asks through a yawn, already sounding half-asleep. “Feelings and whatnot?”

Nick smiles sleepily to himself. A fuck, no matter how incredibly good it is, is not going to make him forget about everything that's happened in the recent past. He hasn't forgotten Harry or the lack of him in his life over the past month. He hasn't forgotten the corner of his heart that's filled with his aching, his sadness. But this is as good as he could hope for. None of it seems quite so dire in this moment.

“Nah,” he finally answers softly. “I'm alright.”

Maybe he is and maybe he isn't in the grand scheme of things, but he feels it now anyway.

Louis doesn't answer, his breath evening out next to Nick. Before he starts snoring softly, though, Louis' hand finds his under the blanket. Their fingers hook together as they fall asleep and Nick thinks that, yeah, they might actually be friends.

* * *

When Nick sits down behind the microphone on Monday, he feels more like himself than he had on Friday. It doesn't feel like as much of an act when he smiles and greets his coworkers. It's still there, the slight awkwardness from walking out the week before and the things left unsaid, but it's more manageable now.

Louis hadn't left his flat until Sunday morning. Nick still isn't sure if part of the reason he stayed is a worry that Nick isn't as okay as he's said he is, but it had been nice nonetheless. They watched telly and ordered in Chinese and Louis looked through his stuff without asking. They played Crazy Eights after Louis taught him what he remembered of the rules. And Louis sucked him off again before they went to sleep in his dark bedroom. Nick came in Louis' mouth, spurred on by the wet sounds of choking as Louis took him deep.

But the really amazing thing had been sucking Louis off for the first time. When he offered to return the favour, Louis had smiled and crawled up over him, straddling his chest. “Only if you want to,” he'd said, swiping the wet tip of his cock against Nick's lips. It wasn't much of a question and Nick dropped his jaw, lifting his head to take him in. The position had left him at eye-level with Louis' broken heart tattoo, and he let himself wonder if that's what this was, some sort of broken heart's club.

He'd never really done anything like that, letting a bloke sit on top of him and rock into his mouth. Usually his one-offs and little flings were either hurried enough that they didn't make it to a bed or they were more focused on the fucking. Nick probably wouldn't have let any of them do this anyway, but for some unknown reason, Nick's instincts are to trust Louis. During the time Louis was above him, feeding his cock into Nick's mouth, Nick never once felt worried.

And Harry definitely would not have done something like that. Harry shied away from anything resembling dominance, preferring to be on his back for Nick, letting Nick take the lead. It was never a problem for him, not when Harry looked so lovely under him.

“Nick!” Matt nearly shouts next to him, ripping him away from his thoughts.

“Jesus, what?” he replies, turning to look.

Matt shakes his head to himself, looking at him as though he's trying to figure something out. “Been trying to get your attention for bloody ages, mate. What's going on with you lately?”

Nick rolls his eyes because he doesn't want to do this again, the avoiding talking about what is going on with him. It's exhausting and he'd rather just get back to normal and leave that one part of his life private, for him and only him to worry about.

“I was just running over the show in my head, Fincham. Calm the fuck down,” he says dismissively, wanting to move on.

Matt doesn't believe him and maybe Nick has never given the lad enough credit. He does spend at least five days a week with Nick. He can hide things from most people, but maybe Matt knows him a bit better than Nick had thought.

“You weren't,” he says plainly, peering into Nick's eyes. “But you look better anyway. Just wish you'd tell me what the fuck is going on with you.”

Nick tells him to stop being a busybody and shoves him toward his desk. As he does the show, he manages to only think about Louis a handful of times. It was fun, being with him, and the sex was amazing and Nick is not likely to forget it anytime soon. But he can't rely on that. He needs to do his job, the job he loves and is good at. He needs to acknowledge his life, the one that doesn't have anything to do with Louis Tomlinson.

Harry isn't brought up at all during the show. Nick only thinks about him a few times, too.

* * *

The next day he sees Aimee. When he texts her to ask if she wants to grab lunch after his show, she answers in all capitals, with more exclamation points than Nick can count. He's been a bit shit lately, he knows. He's never avoided her this much, even when he avoided just about everyone else.

She's there when he arrives and she hugs him for a good five minutes, asking him if he's okay over and over again. Then, of course, she smacks the side of his head and yells at him for not keeping in touch. Nick smiles and lets her yell because this is why he loves her. He still can't honestly believe he made it through a yearlong relationship and the fallout of that relationship without telling her about it. If she finds out now, he'll never hear the end of it, he's sure. She might actually kill him.

“I just don't get it,” she says when they've gotten their drinks. “You actually walked out, Grim. You just left and went who-fucking-knows-where with who-fucking-knows-who. Obviously there's something important going on. Why aren't you talking about it?”

Nick is exhausted. If he didn't think the following conversation would be far more exhausting, he might just tell her. But he knows it would be way too fucking much and she'd want details and Nick doesn't even want to think about those details now. He wants all of his thoughts of Harry to stay as general and vague as possible. He doesn't want to think about the tiny little things that he misses more than he cares to admit.

“Aims, I love you, but I'd really rather talk about anything else,” he says, looking into his vodka lemonade. “It's not a big deal, that thing, and I don't want to talk about it. With anyone,” he adds, in case she thinks he's talking to other people and not her.

And maybe he is, if he's counting Louis. But he's just not sure Louis counts.

“Just worried about my pal,” she says, head cocked to the side. “If you don't want to talk about it, fine, but you can't disappear anymore. I have to see that you're okay. You have to answer my bloody calls.”

Nick agrees, knowing it's a promise he'll have to keep. His friends mean everything to him and he can't pull away from them like that.

He's already lost one friend. He can't lose any more.

* * *

On Friday, Louis comes over again. He brings takeaway and they eat curry and Nick tries very hard not to question any of it. They're mates. It's not weird at all.

Except that it is weird, really fucking weird, that they're now apparently spending time together fairly regularly. Louis had texted him the night before, asking if he was free, and now here he is on Nick's sofa, eating red curry and rolling his eyes at the antics of the sisters Kardashian. It's just weird. Not bad, not by any stretch, but completely unexpected.

And then there's the sex aspect of it. He's not sure if he should expect that they'll be having sex tonight just because they did last time. And the time before that. Maybe those were isolated incidents. But Nick _wants_ to fuck him and he can't help but hope that their friendship will continue on the way it's going, complete with lots of orgasms.

“That's fake hair,” Louis says, pointing his fork at the telly. “No one's hair does that naturally.”

Nick frowns at the telly, thinking he's probably right. “Everyone has fake hair these days, though. Not really a surprise, is it?”

Louis grins next to him and curls closer, until he's right in Nick's space. “Bet yours is fake. Bet that's how you get it so tall.” His smile is bright and self-satisfied and, really, it's one of Louis' better looks.

“I assure you my hair is natural,” Nick answers, stirring his own curry and trying not to let Louis' proximity throw him off. “I don't have quiff extensions.”

He pops a piece of potato into his mouth before Louis' turns more, bringing a leg up over Nick's lap and lopsidedly straddling him. He's been waiting for this, for some sign that they're crossing the line again.

“Only one way to find out for certain,” Louis says, his voice lowering as he leans in closer. “Give it a nice, hard pull.”

Nick has never been into that, never even really thought about it, but right now, he wants nothing more than for Louis to thread his fingers through his hair and give it a good tug. “Yeah? Give us your worst then,” he says, bringing his hands to Louis' thigh now that he's sure he's allowed.

Louis only smiles as he lifts a hand to Nick's head, combing his fingers through it gently. Nick does his best not to wince in anticipation, hopeful that Louis won't actually pull hard enough to hurt him. He still trusts him, though, and he knows Louis wouldn't hurt him on purpose.

The fingers dig into his hair and tug, pulling Nick's head back. It doesn't hurt, but he exhales sharply as Louis dips down and attaches his mouth to Nick's neck.

“This okay?” he asks between kisses to Nick's skin, his tongue darting out to lick over it.

Nick tries to nod, but finds that Louis' fingers are still tangled in his hair, holding him still. “Yeah, it's fine. Just don't, like, actually hurt me.”

“Not what I meant,” Louis says, pressing a soft kiss under Nick's jaw. “Sex. In general. You good with having more of it? With me?”

Nick nearly laughs at the question, honestly, but he supposes Louis _has_ initiated things every time. “Definitely good with having more of it, yes,” he answers, feeling out the curve of Louis' waist.

Louis presses one more kiss to Nick's neck before leaning back, his fingers sliding out of Nick's hair. When their eyes meet, Nick smiles, slipping his hands under Louis' shirt to push them around to his back, palms pressing into his skin. He really is warm and he smells so good and Nick really fucking wants him.

“It doesn't have to be a big deal, right?” Louis asks, staring into his eyes and playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “We can just sleep together and be friends and not do the whole 'what does this mean' thing?”

Nick cracks a smile because this is yet another way in which Harry and Louis are completely different people. Harry actually said those exact words, Nick's fairly sure. _What does this mean?_ And it was fine with him because, yeah, it really did mean something. And even though Nick is quite fond of the boy on his lap, likes spending time with him almost as much as he likes making him come, he's not sure he's ready for another situation like Harry.

“Doesn't have to be a big deal,” he agrees, the smile playing at his lips. “Sex and friendship sounds quite nice.”

Louis hesitates for a moment, smiling himself, before he falls into Nick, their smiles pushing together. Nick hums at the contact, kissing Louis and pulling him closer.

“Take me to bed then,” Louis whispers past Nick's lips.

And Nick is certainly not going to argue with that.

* * *

In the morning, Nick slips out of bed without waking Louis and he goes into the bathroom for a shower. He's still got come smeared across his hip and he feels gross from working up a sweat and letting it dry on his skin.

The shower is hot, just how he likes, and he just stands under the spray for a minute, thinking about the night before. He can hear the echo of Louis' hoarse voice telling him what felt good, what he wanted. It was incredible, really, and Nick wants to do it again and again, but when he thinks about Louis under him, his back pressed into the sheets and his legs curling around Nick, he can't help but remember the last person in that position. He can't help but think about how many times it had been Harry, how they had learned each other through and through. Nick knew what Harry wanted, what he liked, and Harry knew the same.

Nick's never had that with someone before. He wonders if he and Louis are going to do that, too, even if it's not a _thing._ He wonders if he can handle that.

He hears the door open and curiously peeks out from behind the shower curtain, seeing a sleepy Louis walking in, still naked. “Morning.”

“Go back in there, I have to piss,” Louis says, his face scrunched up grumpily.

Nick smiles and retreats back into the shower, tugging the shower curtain closed. He busies himself by shampooing his hair, scrubbing his scalp. Before he can rinse it, the curtain is pulled back and Louis is stepping in with him, grumpy expression starting to fade.

“You're not a morning person, are you?” Nick asks, stepping back to make room for his surprise guest.

Louis shakes his head, but moves into Nick's space, pressing close to him. Nick wraps his arms around the boy, then turns them around so Louis can get under the shower spray.

Louis sighs into his shoulder as the water falls down over his shoulders. “Never have been,” he says, leaning back to get his hair wet. “I'd probably die doing your job.”

Nick smirks and holds out the shampoo bottle for Louis, switching places with him when he takes it. As he rinses his own hair, Louis squirts some shampoo into his hand.

“Fancy shampoo,” he comments, setting the bottle down to lather his hair. “But tell me who the fuck actually cares if their shampoo is gluten-free. Isn't that for diets? Who's eating their shampoo?”

Nick laughs as he gets the last of the suds rinsed from his hair and lifts his head, wiping the water back away from his eyes. “Maybe if it's an apocalyptic situation and all you have left to eat is your shampoo?”

“And what?” Louis asks, a brightness sparking in his eyes for the first time since waking. “Someone's gonna be like _oh shoot this is the only thing to keep me from dying but look at that, it's got that damn gluten in it so I'll have to pass_? Makes sense.” He rolls his eyes, and-

Nick kisses him. It's an impulse and he goes with it, leaning in and swallowing Louis' noise of surprise as their lips press together. He's not sure if there are any rules about morning kissing, but Louis had gotten into the shower with him and fuck it. He wants to kiss him and if he gets pushed away, he gets pushed away.

He isn't pushed away, though. After a moment of surprise, Louis kisses back, running his hands up Nick's wet shoulders to hold on to him, pull him closer. He moves them, until Louis' back is pressed against the tile and Nick licks over his lips, the light scent of orange and ginger flooding the space.

They stay like that, kissing without it threatening to go any further than that, for a few minutes. Finally, Louis leans away from it, his lips a shade darker and a slightly dazed look in his eyes that he blinks away quickly.

“Your twenty quid shampoo is probably going to burn my scalp if I don't rinse this out.”

Nick smirks and leans in once more, pressing a soft peck to his lips. “Thirty quid, actually,” he whispers, then pulls away.

Louis mutters _Jesus_ as he steps under the spray to rinse it out, but Nick sees the little smile on his lips.

Nick might like him a bit. He's really not sure he can handle that, but he's not overthinking. It's not a big deal. He follows the water that's falling down Louis' neck and over his chest and he smiles to himself.

It is what it is.

* * *

What it is is really amazing, actually. Louis comes to his place a couple times a week and they dick around, eat food, watch telly. Louis makes him play video games and actually fucking giggles when Nick is a disaster at it. And Nick inevitably tackles him, which Louis has none of and somehow Nick always ends up pinned to the floor or the sofa.

And they fuck. They fuck in every position possible, in every room possible. It's like painting over his old memories, the ones that still glare at him from the walls, with fresh, new ones. The old ones are still there and Nick can still feel them, but they don't hurt as badly. Nick doesn't have to think about them as much.

It's weird, knowing that Louis is one of Harry's best friends and they spend time together. When Louis stops by, sometimes Nick swears he can smell Harry's cologne, like Louis just came from Harry's and hugged him on the way out. He might be imagining it and he certainly never mentions it, but it's a little reminder that Louis and Harry exist in the same world. It's odd when they feel so separate to Nick, two entirely different parts of his life.

He learns things about Louis slowly but surely, just like Louis learns things about him. But there's one question Nick has wanted to ask, but has never gotten the courage to ask it. He's not sure if he's more worried about pushing too far or about the actual answer.

One night, after Nick's received an excellent blowjob and given what he thinks is a pretty great one himself, they're in bed and Nick's fingers drift. He finds himself sweeping his thumb over the broken heart on Louis' hip, wondering if he should just blurt the question out. He just wants to know how bad the break was, how fresh it is.

Before he can get the words out, though, Louis helps him along.

“Is that a question?” he asks softly, propped up on his side and letting Nick trace the ink curiously.

Nick swallows heavily, knowing this is the time. It has to happen now. “Suppose it is.”

Louis smiles, but there's a touch of sadness to this one that Nick hasn't seen before. “What do you want to know then?”

Nick shrugs, biting his lip. He wants all of it, but he doesn't want to bring the mood down too much. He doesn't want it to hurt Louis, reliving it. An idea pops into his mind, though. “Tell it to me like a story.”

“A story?” Louis asks, one eyebrow lifting curiously. “Like a bedtime story? Like that?”

Nick nods. “Sure, like that. Third person and all of that.”

“Alright,” Louis says, a little disbelieving smile playing at his lips. He's silent for a long moment, clearly thinking about what to say, and then his eyes meet Nick's and he speaks softly. “Okay. So, once there was a boy,” he says slowly. “He met a beautiful girl and she took his breath away. Literally stole it from his lungs, but that wasn't enough. She took his heart, too, but he was happy because she was taking care of it. He liked letting someone do that for him. He was never very good at taking care of it himself. She took care of it for a long time, three years, and the boy was happy. He got a tattoo on his hip to remind himself that his heart was with her, to acknowledge the first time he'd ever given it away.”

Nick listens attentively, keeps gently rubbing his thumb over Louis' tattoo as the boy tells the story.

“But eventually, she stopped taking care of it. She dropped it, left scuff marks around the edges. She dragged it around behind her like an afterthought. And then one day she decided she didn't want it anymore and she gave it back, covered in scrapes and bruises. She wanted a different heart, was bored of this one. So the boy took his heart back and held it in his hands, not sure what to do with it. It was still hers, really, even if she didn't want it anymore.”

Louis stops for a second and quirks the corner of his lips up in a sad half-smile and Nick fights the urge to kiss him. He listens instead, lets Louis go on, speaking thoughtfully.

“He ignored it for a long time, left it abandoned on a shelf where it could ache and ache and he wouldn't have to pay any attention. But one day, he decided he missed his heart, even if it wasn't all shiny and new anymore. So, he picked it up off the shelf, dusted it off, and spent time healing the scrapes he could heal. When he was done, it still wasn't shiny and new, but it was better. It was good enough.”

He stops again, like he's trying to put together the rest of the story in his head and Nick squeezes his hip, waiting patiently until he puts it together.

“So, yeah, he took his heart back and started taking care of it himself again. The one on his hip, the one made of ink, didn't seem right anymore. His heart wasn't with her anymore. But he didn't want to forget because it was a big, important thing for him. It was significant and he didn't want to cover it up and pretend it didn't happen. So, he turned it into what it was. She'd broken his heart before she gave it back. So, he fixed his tattoo and made it look like what she left him with.”

Nick's not sure turning it into a fictional story made it any less painful. Louis seems fine enough, just a hint of sadness like it's always been there and it's just now showing itself as he recalls what happened. But it sucks and Nick can relate now and he's not entirely sure this was a good idea, but he's glad he knows anyway.

“So, it's still broken?” he asks, curious.

“It's got scars,” Louis answers with a shrug. “It's not still bleeding. It's not still broken, even if it can't be completely healed.”

Nick breathes out and nods. He's not sure what to say, not sure if _I'm sorry_ is appropriate now. “How long ago did this story take place?” he asks, realizing that part wasn't covered. He's not sure how long it takes for scrapes on broken hearts to turn into scars.

“We broke up a little over a year ago,” he answers carefully, like he's trying to avoid saying something.

Nick isn't worried about it, though. He dips down and kisses Louis and thinks to himself that really does like this boy. He likes him in his bed and in his home, likes the new memories hiding the old ones.

* * *

Harry texts him the next Thursday. Nick's stomach drops when he sees the name, his chest gone tight. He's just finished up the show and the text waiting for him reads: _Good show. Especially the bit about your dad. Miss him. Always a laugh._

Nick had been telling a story about something his dad had said on the phone the day before. He never actually thought about the possibility that Harry still regularly listened to the show. But then, he did know that Nick had walked out on the show a few weeks before, so he guesses he must have been listening. At the time, Nick had thought it was more likely that someone told him about it.

He's not sure how to reply, or if he should reply at all. But he still misses him like mad and he's not sure that will ever change. So, he lets his thumbs move, typing out a message and sending it before he can change his mind.

_He's insane. And thanks. Didn't know you still listened._

It's been so long since they've spoken and he sits in his chair, staring at the screen of his phone, even as everyone around him gathers their things and heads out. This feels big, really big, and it might be in his head, but standing up seems like a questionable choice.

The reply comes quickly, though. _Whenever I can. Miss talking to you._

Nick's leg won't stop bouncing as he reads it and he exhales heavily, running a shaky hand through his hair. He wants to, he really does, but he's not sure how it will go. It all still feels really current. He's not sure he has scars yet, like Louis. He never did ask how long that took.

 _We could?_ he types, his brain screaming with each letter. _Get lunch or something?_

His stomach flips and turns as he sends it, imagining actually seeing him face to face, hearing his voice, maybe even hugging him. It's not that he's still in love, because he's pretty sure that's not what this is. This is just being bloody terrified of the only person he's given a part of himself to. This is the thought of looking into eyes that have seen the very worst of Nick, the most vulnerable of him.

_Yeah, I'd really like to. Maybe tomorrow? Does that work for you?_

Nick takes a moment out of his panic to smile when he gets the message. He can see that Harry's working on his flaws, the things Nick threw in his face at the end of it, like ignoring Nick's schedule and expecting him to drop everything when Harry was free. And, really, he never meant to do it. Nick knows that. He knew it all along, but he still used it as a reason to put space between them when he panicked.

 _That works for me,_ he answers.

It takes him another fifteen minutes to actually get up and walk out of the studio, his stomach settled a bit and the feeling in his feet returned.

* * *

Walking into the restaurant they'd planned to meet at, Nick isn't sure he's ever been so nervous. He wants, pretty much more than anything, to get back to a friendship kind of place with Harry. He wants him in his life again, wants to be able to call him up and go shopping with him. He wants them to be good and the only way to get to good is to go through the awkward. As much as he'd like to skip past it, there has to be an uncomfortable first time.

When he sees him sitting at a table, bent over his phone, Nick stops and briefly considers leaving before he's noticed. Harry's hair is falling forward from where he's pushed it back and Nick remembers brushing his fingers through those messy curls on the rare lazy morning. He remembers the time he'd tried to braid it, remembers Harry's laughter when he saw the result.

He remembers the fall in and the fall out of love, remembers it like a slap to the face.

He takes too long to decide whether to go forward or turn around and Harry lifts his head, spotting him standing there like an idiot. He smiles for a moment, a hesitant smile, and Nick tries to return it as he forces himself to walk forward.

He sits down before they say anything and Nick has to force himself to look into Harry's eyes, not sure what he'll find there. They fucked things up really badly, but he hopes there's no anger left. He hopes there's no bitterness.

“Hey,” Harry says softly, phone pushed aside. “It's really good to see you, Grimmy.”

Nick nods, feeling so completely out of his element. He's a professional at turning awkward situations around. He's a master of hiding his nervousness and yet, here he is, twisting his hands in his lap under the table, not sure what to say.

“Yeah, you, too,” he replies, still nodding. “I've, uh, been thinking about you a lot.”

Harry doesn't seem to be holding any anger. His expression seems to acknowledge the awkwardness, a bit of sadness in his eyes, but he smiles through it. “I think about you every day,” he says so quietly that it sounds like a secret.

“Me too,” he answers, his own secret. “Every day.”

The waiter comes then and takes their drink orders. Nick would very much like a hard drink, but he knows what a bad idea that is, so he sticks with water. They look over their menus and don't speak again until they've ordered their food and there's nothing left standing between them and this conversation.

“Listen, I'm sorry for all that stuff I said,” Nick starts, referring to the day they'd ended it for good, after lots of little things built up and Nick took it out on Harry. “Most of it was completely untrue and all of it was uncalled for and I shouldn't have said it.”

Harry shakes his head and Nick can see now that he looks tired. He wonders what he's been up to, where he's been and what he's done. There was a time when he could ask. Now he's not so sure.

“No, I know. I get it,” he says, glancing down at the table between them. “A lot of it was true and I'm sorry for those things. I think I really took you for granted sometimes and that was so stupid of me to do.”

Nick waves in front of him, wanting to recover this conversation. He doesn't want to dig through the past and assign blame. He's here to see if they can get past all of that.

“We both fucked up, Harold. Some of us,” he says, pointing at himself, “more than others.” His forced casualness doesn't quite work, but he's jittery and nervous and he can't really help it. “I just- I think it's too soon to be close pals again right now, but I, like, sort of miss you, you know? A lot, actually. I miss you a lot.”

Harry nods along with him, tearing off bits of his napkin. Nick knows he only does that when he's nervous.

“Yeah, I do, too. A lot,” he says, not meeting Nick's gaze. “I want you back. In my life, I mean. I want you back in my life.”

The words hurt a little and Nick isn't sure what to do with them, suddenly isn't sure why he's here. It feels like too much, too soon, and all he can do is replay those last few days over and over until he feels like he’s buried under piles of regret.

“We just have to go slowly, I think,” he replies, then takes a sip of his water. As he sets the glass down, he puts together the words he has to say. He doesn’t want to say them, not to Harry, but it’s the only way to navigate through this, he thinks. “I’m glad you’ve moved on, I really am. I’m just, I don’t know, having a rough time with it, I guess.”

Harry suddenly looks utterly lost, doing that pouty frown thing he does when he’s confused. “What makes you think I’ve moved on?”

Nick sighs heavily, looking away. “You do realize your entire life is documented in the papers, right? We all see it when you start something up with a new beautiful young girl.”

The pout disappears from Harry’s frown then, sadness replacing it. “Seeing someone else doesn’t mean I’ve moved on,” he says. “Besides, you know perfectly well that the cameras don’t see everything.”

Nick definitely knows that. Not even his friends saw everything and that was long before he started avoiding them. And he knows the first part, too. He really loves what he has with Louis, but that doesn’t mean he’s moved on. It’s just hard seeing Harry on the front page with another girl’s hand in his, the headlines proclaiming his new love. He knows it’s not necessarily true, but it stings to see it.

“So we’re both fucked up then?” he says lightly with a half-hearted smile.

Harry smiles, too, sadly. “Guess so.”

Nick has an urge to lean over and ruffle the boy’s hair the way he used to when Harry would get pouty and sad, even before they started sleeping together. He hopes like hell they can get back to that someday.

* * *

That night, when Louis comes over, he smiles as he steps inside and kicks off his shoes like he always does. But he doesn't push himself into Nick's arms as usual. Instead, he leans against the wall next to the door and looks up at Nick, his eyes tired and his face covered in a couple days' worth of stubble.

“You saw Harry today,” he says softly.

Nick is a little bit surprised that he knows, but not entirely. He knows how close they are. “I did.”

“Everything alright then?” Louis asks, head tilted to the side.

“Yeah, good,” Nick responds, nodding. “Just talked a bit. Was weird, but good to see him.”

Louis nods this time, pushing himself away from the wall and stepping closer to Nick. “Good,” he whispers. “And did this meeting change anything? Any reason I shouldn't kiss you now?”

Nick can't help but smile. Louis is soft and tired and he smells like Louis and Nick wants to take him to bed and in the morning he wants to kiss him and pull him into the shower and listen to him complain about Nick's expensive shampoo. He's gotten so comfortable with him in the short time they've been doing this and he isn't sure yet whether that's good or bad, whether it's something to be afraid of, but he's enjoying it anyway.

“Absolutely no reason,” he says, dipping down to press his lips to Louis'.

Louis hums into the kiss, pulling him closer. It's a slow kiss and Nick can feel how tired he is, his lips struggling to keep moving under Nick's. “Tired?” he whispers, pulling back to look into his eyes.

“A bit,” Louis admits with a small smile, his eyelids drooping even as he says it. “Long day. But I'm good, I'll be fine once we get going.”

Nick rolls his eyes and pulls Louis toward his bedroom in silence. Inside, he slowly undresses the boy until he's left in his pants and, when Louis goes to take them off, Nick reaches for his wrist, stopping him.

“We're going to sleep,” Nick explains, letting him go to peel his own shirt off. “We both had big days. Let's just sleep, yeah?”

Louis watches him undress, his lip bitten, and when Nick is down to his pants, too, Louis steps closer. “I wanted to make you feel better after the thing today,” he explains softly. “Wanted to cheer you up and all that, like I do.”

Nick feels something twist inside of him as he looks into this boy's eyes. It was a weird day. He's not sure how he feels about any of it, except that he knows he's happy with Louis here. He's not sure how healthy this is, whatever they're doing, but he feels a bit like he's looking into the eyes of his best friend. They used to be green. Now they're blue.

“I feel better,” he whispers, turning his lips up into a reassuring smile. He lifts a hand to Louis' neck, pulling him in for a soft kiss, wondering if this isn't a terrible idea, whatever this is. “Let's go to bed,” he says as he pulls away.

Louis looks surprised and confused, but mostly he looks tired. He lets Nick pull him toward the bed and he falls down onto it gracelessly. Nick turns off the light and climbs in beside him. As he waits for sleep to come, he wraps himself around Louis, thinking that it's nice to have something warm to hold onto in the dark. It's nice to not feel lonely.

It's nice, really nice, just to be with Louis.

* * *

Louis stays all weekend. Nick doesn't mind at all.

* * *

On Monday, Nick is going through twitter during a song when his phone buzzes with a text from Louis. He'd left the night before since he always complains when Nick wakes him up before six anyway.

It reads: _my hair smells like 30 quid shampoo._

Nick frowns at the screen for a moment, not quite understanding the point of the text. _Is that a complaint?_ he types in response, then refocuses as the song playing comes to a close.

He forgets about his phone for the rest of the show and, an hour and a half later, when he's finishing up, he remembers. He pulls it out and reads the waiting message.

_nope just smells like you xx_

Nick stares at the words for a long while, sure he's reading them wrong or imagining it altogether. He's also imagining the way his pulse speeds up a bit, the flip of his stomach. He's probably not imagining the panic he's feeling, though, mixed together with the rest of it until he can't figure out what's excitement and what's fear.

He finally responds, typing carefully: _well that's an improvement then._ He pauses before adding a smiling emoji and a couple of x's, then hits send before he can rethink it. Whatever this is that he's gotten himself into really is a terrible idea. It's stupid is what it is, fucking idiotic and he knows better.

He just doesn't care.

* * *

It's Friday night and Nick is having people over to his place. It's the first time he's done a real gathering type of thing in a long time. It's been a month since the walking out of work incident and he's barely seen his mates in that time. He'll get a quiet lunch with someone here and there, but he hasn't done all of them at once in a big group. They're more intimidating that way.

Pixie is the one to suggest he invite Harry. Nick tries to wave it off, say he's probably busy, but Pixie is like a fucking hawk, asking him if they've fallen out, asking what's wrong. In Nick's haste to shrug off the accusations, he agrees to invite Harry. And that's how his reintroduction to his social life is impeded by his pop star ex-boyfriend who he's seen once since the break-up and still thinks about annoyingly often.

He's not still in love with Harry, that much he's fairly certain of. He just doesn't understand why the hurt hasn't healed yet, why he's still so disappointed.

People start to filter into his flat and Nick still feels a bit like he's acting with the wide smiles and the loud laughter, but it's better. He's missed them and, even if he has to act a little, he's glad they're there. He's always thought of his friends as his home, the one he built for himself. Harry was a part of that, then he was so much more, and now Nick doesn't know.

When Harry arrives, he's got a bottle of wine in his hand and a sheepish smile on his face. His toes are pointed in the way they often are and Nick isn't sure if this is too much, too soon, but he's never been one for making good decisions anyway. Fuck it, he thinks. If it's a mistake, it's not his first.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, taking the wine and stepping aside to let him in. “Seems this lot has missed you.”

Harry ducks his head and steps inside, nodding at the ground. “I've missed this lot, too.”

That's all the conversation they can have before three screeching girls rush by Nick and practically tackle Harry to the ground. Nick can't help but chuckle, thinking that Harry inspires this kind of reaction whether he's on the job or not.

The night goes smoothly enough. Nick and Harry don't have to talk much to each other with everyone else there, so the awkwardness is limited. He can see how happy Harry is to be in with this group again. Nick hadn't even realized how attached he'd gotten to them over the time they'd been together. He suddenly misses Anne and Gemma and the Sunday afternoons they'd spent together when Harry brought him along back to his mum's.

Just before ten, the doorbell rings and Nick furrows his brow, confused. He's fairly sure everyone he invited is present. He lets the conversation around him continue as he goes to the door.

When he opens it, Louis is there, smiling. The smile drops almost immediately, though, as the voices from the living room travel down the hall.

“Louis,” Nick says, surprised by his presence. “Hey, what are you doing here?” he's quite sure he hadn't made plans with him.

“Oh,” Louis says, his expression changing slowly, eyes glancing past Nick and then back to him, realization lighting up in them. “Oh, you're having a party.” He looks hurt and Nick is a fucking idiot.

“It's not a party, Lou, just a little get together,” he explains, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. If he'd thought Louis would fit in, he might've invited him. Of course, that would be hard to explain to everyone, particularly Harry.

Speaking of, just at that moment, he hears Harry's voice rise above the rest, shouting his protest at something Alexa has said. Something flickers in Louis' eyes before they drop a bit and stare at nothing. Nick hurries to shut the door, all too late.

“A get together, sure,” he says softly. “No problem then.”

That's when Nick notices Louis has Chinese takeaway in his hands and that same knapsack strapped to his back. Nick's stomach curls with guilt. He hates hurting people, especially ones he quite likes.

“Shit, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this,” he says, running his hand through his hair anxiously. “I just thought I should spend some time with my friends, you know?”

He knows he's not obligated to tell Louis anything. They're not dating, not together, and Louis has never just shown up out of the blue like this before. He didn't think it mattered, but right now, he sure as fuck wishes he'd mentioned it.

“It's fine, Nick,” Louis says, shaking his head and trying for a smile, only to have it fade away immediately. “I'm gonna go. Sorry for interrupting.”

He doesn't seem angry in the slightest, but anger might actually be easier to deal with. Nick could get angry back and they could have a nice little screaming match. Whatever this is, sadness or disappointment, is much harder to handle.

“Lou, wait, you- do you want to come in?” He knows it's a stupid idea and Louis won't go for it, but he doesn't want him to just walk away like this.

“No,” he answers with a shake of his head and another failed attempt at a smile. “Thanks for the offer. I'm gonna go home.”

There's nothing else for Nick to say or, if there is, he doesn't know what it is. He watches Louis walk away, his figure becoming a silhouette as he passes through the shadows of the night, takeaway containers held in his hands and head slightly hung.

“Grimmy! What are you doing over there?” he hears shouted across his flat and through the door, the voice muffled when it gets to him. “Invite 'em in or tell 'em to get lost!”

He drops his head back against the door, looking up at the dark sky. He gives himself a few moments to shake the feeling that he fucked up again, always fucks up, before he takes a deep breath and goes back inside.

The smiles aren't as easy to fake for the rest of the night and the laughs are half-hearted. He's not sure when the thing with Louis started resembling a relationship and, what's worse, he's not sure if he hates the thought of it. He just knows he'll fuck up again. It's what he does. He only has to look across the room and see green eyes looking back to remind him of that fact.

* * *

People start to leave after midnight. Aimee leaves first, saying she has to get back to Ian, who’s been feeling poorly. Then Henry and Gillian. Pixie announces that she's staying the night and Alexa curls up on the sofa with her, apparently coming to the same conclusion. Harry bites his lip, glancing up at Nick quickly, then looks away.

“Well, I've got to get home, actually,” he says as he stands, stretching out.

Nick's been distracted for most of the night but he forces himself to focus, pushing everything else back to the back of his mind.

“Aw, come on, Styles,” Pixie says, half-drunk, half-tired. “Stay over like old times.”

“Yeah, at least Nick always lets you sleep in his bed,” Alexa says.

“Makes us ladies sleep on the sofa,” Pixie continues with a pout. “Sexist is what it is.”

Nick knows they both know that he and Harry have fooled around. He supposes most people do. But he also knows that they don't know how much more it was, that when they were sleeping on his sofa and Harry came to bed with him, it wasn't just a bit of feeling around for fun that was happening under his sheets. It was slow kisses and whispers of love and it was real.

“Afraid not,” Harry replies, interrupting Nick's thoughts. “Have an early day tomorrow. Must head home.”

The girls boo as Harry rolls his eyes and slips on his jacket, walking toward the door. Nick follows, feeling a bit bad that they've barely spoken all night, but knowing that was what tonight needed to be. He's not ready to jump head first into a friendship yet. He's testing the waters.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Harry says quietly at the door, away from the girls. “I wasn't expecting it and- and it was really nice. Thank you.”

Nick smiles, not sure what to do with himself. Uncertainly, he holds his arms open and approaches slowly, waiting to see what Harry's reaction will be. The younger boy curls right into them, though, sighing over Nick's ear as they hug. He smells like falling in love and Nick feels a bit sick as he closes his eyes and breathes it in.

“I want to be friends with you someday,” Nick mutters. “Real friends. I want that so fucking badly.” He sighs himself, giving Harry a little squeeze before stepping out of his embrace before nostalgia gets a good grip on him. “I just can't do it yet, I don't think. Not all at once.”

Harry stuff his hands in his pockets as he lets go of Nick, his eyes big and understanding. “Little steps?” he asks in a small voice.

“Little steps,” Nick agrees with a nod.

He hates that it's come to that, but it's how it has to be until Nick can sort out his fucking head.

Or maybe it's his heart that needs sorting.

* * *

Nick is standing at Louis’ front door over a week later, nervously waiting for him to answer. After being turned down twice, Nick had finally gotten Louis to agree to a night in and when Louis had suggested Nick coming to his, he couldn’t say no. They always spend time at Nick’s and it seems fair for Nick to do the traveling for a change.

When Louis opens the door, he’s in low-slung grey joggers and nothing else and Nick forgets everything he’d planned to say in an instant. It was something about an apology, something about feeling guilty. It was probably very important but right now all Nick can feel is want.

“Thinking about coming in?” Louis asks, softly sarcastic.

“Mostly thinking about coming,” Nick answers, gaze sliding down Louis’ body before he snaps out of it and wants to give himself a smack. “I mean, you look nice.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but smiles, pulling Nick inside by the shirt. “Get in here then. Let’s work on that coming thing,” he says, kicking the door shut and pasting himself against Nick’s chest, leaning up for a kiss.

Nick kisses him back for a moment, then pulls away, remembering what he’d wanted to say, what he really needs to say. “Hey, I’m sorry about last weekend. I didn’t-”

“Don’t have to apologize,” Louis interrupts, kissing him again briefly. “I’d rather not talk about it at all. I’d rather you just fucked me.”

Something in Nick’s chest flutters and his eyelids droop, hands moving to Louis’ bare sides. He can’t argue with that at all. And maybe it doesn’t need to be talked about. Maybe he made it into a bigger deal in his head than it really was. He does that sometimes.

“That’s not all you are, you know,” he mumbles, cheeks flaming hot as the words spill out of his mouth without consideration.

Louis doesn’t answer, but he stills, their lips barely touching. His breath seems to come quicker, warm puffs of air spilling shakily over Nick’s, and his fingers curl against Nick’s neck.

This whole thing with them is so undefined and built on unspoken boundaries and Nick isn’t sure, but he thinks maybe he just crossed one. Before he can panic, though, Louis nods and pushes forward, kissing Nick heavily. It’s a kiss that makes Nick forget about everything, just Louis’ lips and tongue and his hands and his body existing in the moment.

“Come here, come on,” Louis breathes out, pulling Nick down a hall with their lips together in a sloppy kiss.

Nick never understood why people do that, why they don’t just pull apart for the few seconds it takes to walk to the bedroom, but he might understand it now. Pulling away from this for even a second seems impossible. He holds onto Louis’ waist, following his lead as he takes clumsy steps backwards, pulling Nick along.

In the bedroom, Louis makes quick work of peeling Nick’s clothes off, then his own joggers. This isn’t all Louis is to Nick, not by a long shot, but the rush of having this boy naked and pressed against him is something spectacular. It’s a feeling he remembers well, slightly different, but close enough that it stings a little.

“Want you to take over tonight,” Louis says, already breathless. “Can you?”

Nick exhales as he nods, feeling Louis pull away. He opens his eyes to see the younger boy backing up onto the bed and lying down on his back, legs spread and cock already thick against his stomach. It takes Nick a minute, taking in the sight before him before he drops his knees onto the mattress, crawling between the loveliest thighs Nick has ever had the pleasure of seeing, touching, sucking bruises into.

They kiss as Nick fingers him open and when Louis is gasping into his lips, riding down on three fingers, he pulls them out. Once he has a condom on and has lubed himself up, he looks down into the black and blue of Louis’ eyes, pupils blown wide and skin flushed pink.

“It’s really not just fucking,” he whispers recklessly. “You know that, right?”

Louis stares up, only something behind his eyes changing his expression. He stares into Nick’s eyes and nods, sliding his hand up over Nick’s shoulder until his fingers rest against his neck. As his thumb rubs gently behind his ear, Nick thinks about that first night, thinks about Harry and leaving and a hotel room in the middle of the country. Everything is such a mess and Nick doesn’t know anything except that this is way fucking more than a good shag.

He pushes in with his eyes locked on Louis’, watches them roll back as the boy’s legs spread wider for him. Louis wanted him to take over and he does, trusting himself to know when he can start moving instead of asking. He keeps his eyes on Louis’ closed ones as he thrusts in, watching for any sign that he’s moving too quickly. He doesn’t see any, though, just gets little hums of appreciation and whimpers when Nick fills him up completely, hips pressed to Louis’ arse.

“Hold my arms,” Louis requests, eyes blinking open as he moves his arms above his head.

Nick feels a jolt of electricity, biting down on his lip as he fucks in, sliding his hands up. His fingers curl around Louis’ forearms and he puts his weight on them, still looking for any sign of hesitance. Louis moans when Nick pins him down and snaps his hips forward roughly, a barely audible _yeah_ slipping out as the noise cuts off.

With that encouragement, Nick starts fucking him in earnest, hard enough to hear the slapping of skin on each thrust. It’s as good for him as it seems to be for Louis, but he puts his own needs on the backburner for a bit, focused entirely on making it feel as good for the boy underneath him as possible. He finds the right angle, the right pace, until Louis is releasing a constant string of whines and breathy moans, fingers tightening uselessly in the air, gripping nothing.

“Are you close?” Nick asks eventually, when Louis’ jaw is dropped and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, shifting his arms in Nick’s grip. “Fuck, god, close. Let me touch.”

Nick fucks faster, watching Louis fall apart even more below him. “You don’t need to, come on,” he replies, seeing how close Louis is, feeling how tight he is on his cock. “Come just like this, babe.”

Louis shakes his head, a soft whine spilling out of his throat. “No, I can’t.”

Nick isn’t going to give up that easily. He’s never seen Louis do it, come without touching, but he knows it can be done. Harry always told him how amazing it felt and Nick wants to give Louis that.

“You can, I promise,” he answers roughly. “You’re so close, love, come for me.”

“I can’t, Nick,” Louis spits out, his eyes suddenly sparking. “Just because Harry can do that doesn’t mean everyone can.”

Nick lets go of his hands and stills his hips immediately, his chest heaving from exertion and worry. Louis glances away, his lips pulled tight, and Nick is frozen for a long moment, surprised and afraid at the sudden drastic change in the atmosphere.

“I’m gonna pull out,” he says quietly, feeling Louis' muscles twitch around him and being unable to bear it.

“Don’t, just- just keep going, come on,” Louis says quickly, his hands grasping at Nick’s sides.

It’s too late, though. Nick couldn’t keep going if he wanted to. Nothing kills a stiffy like the person you’re fucking being angry with you along with a massive amount of guilt. “Can’t fuck you when you’re pissed off,” he says as an apology as he slips out entirely, too upset to worry about not getting to finish. “Lou, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Just go,” Louis says coldly, not meeting his gaze. “Just fucking go. I’ll finish myself, thanks.”

He makes no move to touch himself and as Nick sits back on his knees, he can already see that Louis won’t be starting where Nick left off any time soon.

“I wasn’t trying to say-” He tries before he’s interrupted again.

“Do you think we don’t talk about stuff like that? Do you think I don’t know way fucking more than I want to about your sex life?” Louis’ eyes finally fall back on Nick, hurt and anger swirling inside them. He sets his jaw, but that doesn’t stop Nick from seeing the pain. He drops his voice, looking away again. “Just leave, okay?”

Nick leaves. He pulls his clothes on in thick silence, wanting to say more, but not knowing the words. As he walks out, there’s an actual, physical ache in his chest.

He always fucks up. Always.

* * *

To his surprise, it’s only two days before Louis texts him toward the end of the show, asking if he can come to Nick’s that evening. He replies affirmatively as quickly as his thumbs will move, relieved that Louis is willing to talk to him, but also a bit terrified.

“What’s wrong with you?” Matt asks after they’ve finished as he fusses with the computer. “You seem distracted again.”

“Again?” Nick answers vaguely as he powers down his own station.

“Is that playing stupid or actual stupidity?” Matt retorts, looking up at Nick from across their desks. “Remember how you were acting like a zombie last month? How you missed more cues during that time than you have in the whole of your career?”

Nick doesn’t look at him. He makes himself very busy checking things that don’t need to be checked. “I don’t recall, sorry,” he answers, not wanting to talk about this, especially now that he’s got the night ahead weighing on his mind.

Matt stares for a long moment and Nick feels his skin starting to burn under the gaze. Just as he finishes the last of the shutting down and he’s ready to leave, Matt speaks again.

“Are you talking to someone about whatever this is? If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, but do you have someone you’re talking to?”

Nick finally looks up, surprised by the quiet sincerity in Matt’s voice. They don’t usually communicate like that. They care about each other by sniping and pinching and the occasional hug. They don’t do this, whatever it is that Matt’s doing. It makes Nick feel bad all over again somehow.

“I’m fine,” Nick insists yet again, kindly this time.

Matt shakes his head quickly. “That’s not what I asked. I asked if you have someone.”

Nick drops his head, squeezing his phone in his hand. It’s a complicated question, more complicated than Matt could know. Does he have someone? He’s not sure.

But he thinks someone might have him.

* * *

Louis gets to his at eight. There are no takeaway containers in his hands and there’s no knapsack on his back, only a look in his eyes that Nick’s not sure he’s seen before. He’s been expecting anger. It’s not there.

“Hey,” Louis says softly and the word sounds like an apology.

Nick swallows hard, stepping aside to let him in. He’s glad there’s no anger, but he’s worried about what’s replaced it. He’s worried about the missing knapsack and what that means.

“Do you want tea?” Louis always wants tea, so it’s a good place to start, he figures.

Louis shakes his head, though, and pulls Nick by the elbow toward the sofa. It’s all so ominous and Nick’s hands feel shaky as he sits, turning a bit so he can look into the eyes looking back at him. He feels a bit like a child waiting to be scolded.

Louis tucks his feet up under him, then sighs. “I’m sorry I freaked out like that,” he says quietly, dropping his gaze. “It’s something that’s been on my mind from the beginning, from that first night.”

Nick furrows his brow, but stays silent, not sure what to say. He wants to interrupt and explain that Louis doesn’t need to apologize, but more than that, he wants to hear what he has to say. Nick’s done so much talking. He wants to listen for a bit.

“When I asked you not to pretend I’m him, I knew it was an impossible request. I knew it and I went along with it anyway because I really wanted it.” He twists his hands together and Nick bites the inside of his cheek to keep from interrupting. “I kept pushing those thoughts aside, ignoring the knowledge that I’m just a replacement, just filling a Harry-sized hole in your life.”

“I’ve never thought of you like that,” Nick says, not able to let Louis keep going like this. “I swear, Louis, I’ve never pretended you’re Harry.” He hasn’t. How could he? Louis is so different from Harry in so many ways.

“You have, though, is the thing,” Louis replies, sadness in his tone. “Maybe you weren’t actually picturing Harry when you closed your eyes or anything. Maybe you weren’t doing it actively, but this thing between us started because Harry had broken your heart. He stepped out and I stepped in and of course that’s what I was.” He shifts a bit, quirking the corner of his mouth up as his eyes drift away again. “That’s why I invited you ‘round my place the other day. I thought being with you in a space that wasn’t filled with your memories of him might help.” He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip before releasing it. “That’s why I overreacted. Because I realized that they’d follow you anywhere. And I can’t stand the thought that you’re thinking of him when you’re with me, even if it’s not on purpose.”

Nick still doesn’t know what to say. He’s stunned by all of this, frozen and silent, and his chest aches with the need to pull Louis in and make it all better. He’s never seen him hurting, not really, not even when he told the story of his tattoo.

“I can’t be the plaster on your broken heart,” Louis says, the words rough and sad and like a punch to Nick’s chest. “I thought I could at first. I thought I would be fine with being that for you, but I didn’t expect-”

He stops himself and Nick’s heart thumps in his chest, bruised and scraped and broken, but still beating.

“I never thought I’d care so much,” Louis finishes, giving him a sad smile.

Nick’s eyelids fall and he listens to his beating heart and realizes how much he cares, too. He fucking cares, fucking hates what’s happening right now, but it’s something he can’t fix. He can’t just force himself to be completely fine with everything that’s happened over the past few months and, even if he could, Louis wouldn’t believe him.

“I’m sorry,” Nick says, eyes blinking open, the only words he can think to say. “I’m so sorry, Lou, I never meant for it to be like that, for you to be like a plaster.”

Louis shakes his head slowly, reaching out and resting his hand on Nick’s knee, fingernails softly scraping the denim of Nick’s jeans. “I don’t blame you and I’m not angry,” he says, surprisingly mature for someone Nick had always thought was a little twat of a boy. “It’s as much my fault as it is yours. I should have known. I did know.”

Nick stares at the hand on his knee, at the fingers curving over it, the little movements.

“There’s nothing I can do to change this, is there?” he asks, sight going unfocused as he continues to stare at Louis’ hand.

“Pick your dusty heart up off the shelf and start taking care of it again,” Louis answers softly. “And, who knows, maybe when your scrapes are scars...”

He doesn’t finish the statement, but Nick likes the fact that it’s open-ended. He likes the possibility. “How long did it take you?” he asks, finally looking up, blinking away the sting in his eyes. “To get scars?”

Louis looks away, the soft curve of his jaw all Nick can really see. “It’s different for everyone,” he says with a shrug that isn’t quite casual.

“I know. But how long for you?”

Louis turns toward him, but keeps his gaze down, staring at his hand on Nick’s knee. It’s warm and comforting and Nick doesn’t want it to be taken away, doesn’t want to be left cold and lonely. It’s possible he’s not just referring to the hand.

“Six, seven months?” he finally answers roughly, like his throat’s gone dry.

Nick’s gone two and a half months. He can’t imagine another four, especially another four without Louis around. He hates all of this so much, hates that he can’t kiss Louis right now, hates that if he did, it would be tainted by memories he doesn’t want to hold onto, but can’t seem to shake. He hates not being in control, his feelings having gotten the better of him.

“How will I know?” he asks, looking into Louis’ eyes until they look back.

Louis looks thoughtful for a long moment, thumb rubbing circles over the bump of Nick’s knee. He parts his lips slowly, eyes squinted a bit. “When you stop thinking about how it went wrong,” he says, nodding once the words are out. “When you stop thinking of all the things you should have said but didn’t. When you stop going over everything you did say.” He nods again, his soft blue eyes trained on Nick. “When you don’t have any more questions.”

Nick can’t imagine getting to a place where he doesn’t think about he and Harry in those terms. He can’t imagine letting go of the guilt and the _what if_ s completely, even if the answers to those _what if_ s don’t change anything. But he trusts Louis, has since the beginning, and he believes him. He believes it’ll happen. He just wishes it could happen now or a month ago, even.

“I should go,” Louis says after a moment, his hand squeezing Nick’s knee, a sense of finality in the touch.

Nick looks into his eyes and he just aches. “Pull off the plaster quick, right?” he asks, practically whispering because his voice seems to have gone. “Don’t drag it out?”

Louis smiles sadly and his hand is lifted away from Nick’s knee, leaving a chill behind in its place. “Be well, Nick,” he says, hesitating like he wants to say more. He seems to think better of it, though, and walks away. Nick closes his eyes and listens to light footsteps and the opening and closing of his front door and then there’s nothing. Silence.

_I asked if you have someone._

Nick knows now what the answer is and it makes his stomach turn.

* * *

Nick is quiet at work the next day and he suffers through hours of Matt staring at him and then he goes home and stares at the telly. It’s not even on; he just stares at the black screen, his mind so full of thoughts they all turn to nothing.

He’s not sure how much time has passed, something in the hours range, but eventually he picks up his phone. He thinks he needs to make this all real to get over it. If he keeps it all inside, it seems like maybe none of it ever happened, like he dreamt it. He needs to tell someone so it can become reality.

He scrolls through his contacts, pretending not to know who he’s looking for, but when he sees the name, he knows he was looking for it all along. Collette.

“Hiya, love,” she answers perkily, sounding like she’s in her car. Nick can hear a distant horn and the turned down radio in the background.

“Hey, Collette,” he answers, leaning his head back against the sofa and staring up at the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately, able to sense Nick’s mood better than he can himself sometimes. That’s probably why she’s the one he’s called.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Have you got time to pop by sometime?” he asks, avoiding her question. “Tonight or tomorrow? Whenever?”

“What’s wrong, Grim?” she asks again, sounding almost frantic, her tone adamant.

Nick squeezes his eyes shut tightly, but they burn anyway. He should have known it would happen. “Just want a chat,” he answers hoarsely. “Have some stuff to talk about, I guess.”

She replies telling him she’s turned her car around and she’ll be there in ten minutes. Nick shouldn’t have expected any less.

* * *

Collette arrives and she hugs Nick for a long while, mumbling as she scolds him for not keeping in touch. He feels shit about it, but he knows she understands. Sometimes their lives get busy and they don’t see each other for a while and then they’ll go a month practically living under the same roof. It’s just how they work.

They settle on the sofa with tea and she brushes her fingers through his hair for a moment before her jaw sets seriously.

“Tell me what’s happened then.”

Nick bites down hard on his lip, staring into his cup and preparing himself, not only to say the actual words, but for the inevitable smack he’s going to receive.

“Well, there’s something I should’ve told you a long time ago,” he starts carefully, almost wincing. “And you’ll probably hit me round the head for not having told you.”

“Okay,” Collette says, nodding seriously.

Nick takes a deep breath and looks back into his tea. “I was seeing someone,” he says, giving himself time to build up to it. “More than seeing, I guess. I was in a relationship with someone.” He pauses, a bit terrified, and looks up to see Collette watching him, obviously biting her tongue to keep from interrupting just yet. “For a year.”

That’s it, that’s what sparks Collette into action.

“A year?” she squawks out, eyes bugging. “Grim, are you serious right now? You were with someone for a year and you didn’t bloody tell me?”

She doesn’t hit him anyway, so that’s a nice surprise. He nods, cringing to himself. “Didn’t tell anyone actually.”

“What? Why?” she asks loudly, in disbelief.

It’s a question he’s never really thought too much about. Harry had never pushed him to tell people, even though he’d told all of his bandmates and his mum and sister. Nick just never wanted to deal with all of that, the telling people and making a big fuss. And as he thinks about it, he thinks he realizes why he didn’t.

“I think- I think I didn’t want to tell anyone because,” he says slowly, as realization dawns on him, “I knew it wouldn’t last. I knew it would end and what was the point of telling everyone just to have to un-tell them when it inevitably went to shit?”

Fuck. He’s not sure if he’s more upset that he never realized this or that he felt that way in the first place. Who willingly goes into a relationship with one of their favourite people, knowing they’re going to ruin it from the start?

“Grim,” Collette says sadly, reaching out to touch his knee. He remembers Louis’ hand there the previous day. Collette’s touch is nice, but it’s not as warm. “That’s stupid.” It’s not said unkindly. It’s said like she knows Nick already realizes how stupid it is. Which he does.

“It really is, isn’t it?” he says with a sigh.

“So, who was this bloke? And what happened?”

Nick bites down on his lip, staring past Collette’s shoulder. “It was Harry.” She probably could have guessed. Everyone could have. She just says _ahhh_ and nods knowingly, allowing him to go on. “It just fell apart, I guess? He was gone so much and I let him slip away more than I should have and it got hard to pull him back in.” He shrugs, looking down. “He’d come back to town and want to be with me and I’d want to be with him, too, always wanted to be with him, but I’d make plans to prove that I had a life without him.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “To prove I didn’t need him, I suppose.”

“Oh, love,” Collette says gently, reaching out to card through his hair again.

Her fingertips rub against his scalp and his throat feels tight. He hates crying in front of people, but Collette always seems to bring it out in him. Still, he swallows it back and his eyes grow wet, but he doesn’t let tears form.

“I was in love with him,” he says quietly. “Like, really in love and _happy,_ you know? But I let it fall apart and then it was over and somewhere during that I fell out of love, but it still bloody hurts and I don’t understand that.” He turns to Collette, brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t it stop hurting when you stop wanting to be with them? Fall out of love, no more pain? Seems like they should go together.”

Collette smiles an empathetic smile, eyes squinted and wrinkles prominent at the corners. “Seems like, but that’s not how it works, love.” She tilts her head to the side, lips pursed. “Is this why you ran off that day in the middle of your show?”

Nick takes a deep breath because there’s another story he has to tell and the pain of that one is a lot fresher. “Yeah,” he whispers, setting his tea on the table and bringing his hands to his lap. “Yeah, it was because of him. But someone else found me that day. And that’s where the story gets complicated.”

Collette doesn’t say anything, just nods a bit to encourage Nick along. Nick pulls his legs up, tucking his knees against his chest.

“He came and found me and he listened and before that we’d not had a history of being too friendly, so it was all sort of unexpected. And we hooked up that night, but I think we both thought it was a one off sort of thing. But it was really nice, being with him, and then we kept doing it after that. It became a regular thing and-” His eyes burn again, hot with unshed tears, and he feels like an idiot, but this is Collette. She brings the sincerity out of him. “I started caring about him,” he says, his voice shaking, and he nods twice. “I really care about him, but I’m still fucked up over Harry and it’s all such a mess.” He drops his forehead against the sharp curve of his knees. “He broke things off yesterday.”

“Why?” Collette asks, somewhat indignantly. “He left you when you’re already hurt? What’s his problem then?”

Nick shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not like that. I think he cares about me, too, but he said I need to focus on, like, healing my heart before I can start something up with someone else. But I-”

He cuts himself off, surprised by his thoughts and the fact that his throat is spasming with the need to cry, surprised that this is so fucking hard. It took him months, years to fall for Harry. He and Louis have been hooking up for barely over a month. How could it have happened so quickly, he wonders.

“You what, Grim?” Collette asks, her hand falling to his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

Nick squeezes his eyes shut and feels the moisture start to spill out between the press of his eyelids. “I can’t stand the thought of not having him around,” he says roughly. “He’s the last person I would have expected to need, but it hasn’t even been 24 bloody hours and I already miss him.”

He’s quickly gathered up in a comforting hug and the gentle movement of Collette’s hand over his back is enough to calm him down, to keep him from completely falling apart.

“We’ll get you through this, love,” she murmurs into his ear. “I’ll stay and you’ll talk until you can’t talk anymore and then we’ll watch bad telly and order in food and it’ll be alright.” She holds him for a long moment before she pulls back and takes his face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. “No more keeping this stuff inside, yeah? Things like this need talking through.”

He nods his agreement because he thinks he gets that now. He wasn’t ready to tell people before, but he thinks he knows now that he has to. It’s good, talking about it.

Collette stays all night and Nick tells her everything, from his first kiss with Harry to the night before with Louis. He answers her questions and tries to believe her when she says it’ll pass and he’ll feel better soon. He bloody hopes so, anyway.

* * *

It’s only once Louis’ not around anymore that Nick realizes how close they’d become. Besides the fact that he was starting to fall for him, Louis really had become his best friend. Without him staying over a couple nights a week, Nick finds himself feeling horribly lonely.

He wallows a bit, spends a week’s worth of evenings curled up on his sofa, watching whatever’s on the telly when he flips it on, drinking wine out of a mug and letting his memories scream at him from the walls. But the following weekend, he’s intent on getting out of the bloody house, even if he has to wear a fake smile and force his laughter all night. It’ll be a change and maybe that’s exactly what he needs.

With three drinks in him and heavy music pumping through the air around him, he confesses to Aimee. He wanted to tell people, but he hadn’t really planned it to be in a dark club where he has to shout to be heard. Nonetheless, the alcohol in his system encourages the words to come out.

“I was dating Harry,” he shouts into Aimee’s ear when Ian’s distracted, talking to the bartender.

“What?” she practically shrieks, her head whipping around to stare wide-eyed at him. “You were _what_?”

Nick nods, feeling brave. He takes another sip, then leans in again. “We were together for a year, actually. Sort of madly in love, I guess.” It feels so strange to being shouting the words, even if they can barely be heard over the noise in the room. It’s sort of freeing, though, Nick realizes.

“Nicholas fucking Grimshaw, is this some kind of joke?” Aimee asks, looking borderline mutinous.

“It _is_ sort of a joke, innit?” Nick replies, going for a smile, but failing. “Fucking joke, in the end.”

Aimee’s glaring eyes soften, her whole face falling as she stares at Nick, probably gauging whether he’s being serious or not. Nick shrugs and drinks his drink, waiting for her to decide.

“What happened then?” she asks, her voice softer, barely audible over the bassline.

Nick puts down his glass, his head feeling perfectly fuzzy. “Went to shit, of course,” he says, not bothering to shout this time. She’ll hear him or she won’t. “Then I accidentally fell for his best friend and that went to shit, too.”

He looks up and she looks baffled, which really makes sense. It’s all a bit baffling, honestly. It’s all messy and complicated and Nick never asked to fall in love.

“Sick fucking joke,” he mutters, then downs the last of his drink.

* * *

He doesn’t notice when it happens because it happens gradually. He tries to get over the Harry thing, tries to fix the breaks in his heart for weeks and he eventually gives up. It’s frustrating because all he wants is to be over it so he can call Louis and hope he hasn’t moved on. But it doesn’t work that way. Nothing changes. So he gives up on that and focuses on the other parts of his life, the ones that aren’t shit.

He goes out with his friends again and he brainstorms new ideas for the show. He reads up on the latest celebrity news, pleased that some of their lives are more tragic than his own. That Taylor Swift, she should really stop giving her heart to people, he thinks. And then he remembers lying in bed, his thumb tracing over ink-stained skin as he listened to a sad story about a broken heart.

Those moments are the worst, probably. Any pain left from Harry is dull and more annoying and persistent than anything. But Louis. He misses Louis every day. He misses the sex, misses his voice, misses hot showers and warm lips. He misses arguing over the remote and snippy comments about his flat, his hair, his height. And he misses it all in a fierce, needy kind of way. It’s not the same as when you haven’t seen your best mate in a while, not even the same as the way he’s missed Harry. It’s almost suffocating, remembering how comfortable he felt with Louis and knowing he probably won’t get to feel that way again.

It’s distracting enough that he doesn’t notice everything else fade away. The regret, the sadness, the heartbreak. His memories of Harry aren’t screaming from the walls anymore. They’re there waiting for Nick to look through when he wants but they’re not making him listen even when he doesn’t want to.

He waits another week in case it’s a fluke. Then he waits another just to be sure. But he only feels better after that, feels like the chains have lifted. He feels a bit like he’s done the bloody impossible. He fell in love, then fell out of love and he got over it. He survived having his heart broken, the thing he’d been so fucking scared of all his adult life.

* * *

It’s been three months since he saw Louis. Three months of radio silence, not a single text or call made either way. That’s why it feels so weird to just send him a text like _all fixed now fancy a date?_ It’s been so long and Nick has no idea where Louis is. Maybe he’s dating someone else.

But, even if he’s not, the odds that he’s moved on are considerable. He’s young and fit and famous, way too good for Nick by anyone’s standards. More than likely he’d realized two and a half months ago how silly it was to be wasting his time on an almost-30 B-list entertainer with a saggy waist and shapeless arms.

That probably would have been more than enough to keep him from even trying before. He would have pretended not to care until he finally didn’t care anymore because that’s what he’s always done. But now that he’s done the impossible, he’s feeling a little bit brave. If he gets laughed at, he gets laughed at. The small remaining chance that they could have something is enough to get him in his car and drive him across town on a Saturday afternoon.

He’s got blinders on once he’s parked and he goes straight to the front door, wanting to do this before he’s lost his nerve. His hands are shaking, but nerve only gets you so far, Nick reckons. It doesn’t settle the sinking feeling in his chest, the terror and excitement of seeing Louis again.

He rings the doorbell, but the sound he’s greeted with on the other side of the door isn’t the soft pad of familiar footsteps; it’s multiple voices. Nick panics, feet stuck to the pavement. It sounds like too many voices to be a date but that’s where his mind goes anyway. He feels a bit foolish just showing up now.

When the door opens, Harry is standing in front of him. It’s as jarring for him as it clearly is for Harry judging by the confused look on his face.

“Wha- are you here for me?” he asks, looking around like he’s trying to make sure he is, in fact, at Louis’ house and not his.

Nick shuffles his feet and sees Niall past Harry’s shoulder, leaning back over a chair to see who’s at the door. “Hiya, Grimmy!” he says with a warm smile before turning back to the telly. At least one person’s not freaking out.

“I’m actually here to see the, uh, man of the house?” Nick says, feeling his cheeks flush. “He here?”

Harry eyes him suspiciously, like he’s trying to put together a particularly hard puzzle, and nods. “Yeah, sure,” he says slowly, then cranes his head around, calling for Louis over his shoulder.

As Nick awkwardly waits on the porch, Harry continues to stare. Nick thinks about making small talk, but he has a feeling that will only make this worse. Luckily, Louis doesn’t take long and soon he’s appearing from down a hall that Nick knows leads to his bedroom.

“Oh,” Louis breathes out, freezing when he sees Nick at the door. “Hi.”

He looks good. Like, Nick’s thoughts of him had gotten a little fuzzy and, sure, his face is on every magazine in the country, but seeing him in person again... Nick had forgotten how good he could look.

“Hi,” he says, nodding. Harry’s still staring, but Nick’s not paying any attention. “Was wondering if we could have a quick word?”

Louis’ lips pull tight and Nick notices how much more stubble he’s got on his face now. He wonders if it’s just a lazy few days of not shaving or if it’s his new look. Either way, he likes it, can’t help but think about the sting it would leave on his chin.

“Sure, yeah, ‘course,” Louis answers, staying put for another moment before he finally starts closing the distance between them. “Be right back,” he says to Harry as he passes by, slipping through the doorway.

If this moment weren’t so fucking important and nerve-wracking, Nick would laugh at the look on Harry’s face as the door is pulled shut, but as it is, he can only look down and take a deep breath.

“You’re here,” Louis says. It sounds like a question.

“So I am,” Nick answers, looking up. He can’t really help but smile when he meets Louis’ gaze, the younger boy’s eyes bright. “God, I’ve missed you.” The words tumble from Nick’s lips and that wasn’t where he’d planned on starting, but he figures it’s not far off anyway.

“Is that why you’re here?” Louis asks, his eyebrows creeping up expectantly.

“Sort of, yeah,” Nick answers, chewing on the corner of his smile. “Wanted to tell you that you were right about everything. Bloody annoying, that is. You’re younger than me and more successful. You’re not supposed to beat me on wisdom.”

Louis’ laugh is genuine and Nick wipes his palms together to keep from reaching out to him, his fingers itching to touch him again after all this time.

“Yeah, so, you were right. It all slowly faded away until it didn’t hurt anymore. All of the heartbreak and the regret and the confusion just faded to nothing,” he says, shrugging. “Except you didn’t fade away at all. You’ve stubbornly stayed on my mind for months now and I’m just here to say that, if you want it, it’s yours.”

He breathes in and out slowly, watching Louis’ expression change to something he can't quite place.

“It?” he asks simply.

Nick nods, taking another deep breath. “Yeah, it,” he says, his voice gone quiet on its own accord. “It’s not shiny and new anymore. It’s got scars, maybe even more than I realize. But it’s all I’ve got to offer.”

Louis goes still and Nick has no idea what that means. He doesn’t know if this is too much or not enough or just too fucking late. He has no idea and all he can do is wait, standing on Louis’ porch on a sunny afternoon, the birds chirping in the distance.

“You’re sure then?” he finally responds thoughtfully. “Like, really sure?”

Nick nods, wiping his palms over his hips. “Very sure, yes. I double-checked and everything, promise.”

Louis rolls his eyes at that, his lips curling up into a smile. “I just don’t-”

“No, I know,” Nick interrupts. “I get it. It’s been a few weeks now. And, listen you don’t have to make any decisions right now or anything, yeah? I know it’s sort of sudden.”

Louis brings a hand up to wipe at his scruff and Nick hears the scratch of the bristle across the couple of feet between them. “It is, yeah,” he agrees, eyes going wide for a second.

Nick isn’t sure whether to feel hopeful or not, but he hasn’t been rejected or laughed at, so that’s something. He can wait if Louis needs time to think. He’s already waited months, he can wait a bit longer.

“Think about it, okay? Just think it over and let me know what you decide.”

He smiles once more, eyes dancing over the boy in front of him, then takes a step back. He turns away and starts toward his car before a soft voice calls him back.

“Nick, wait.”

Nick stops and turns, wondering if this is going to be like one of those romantic comedies and Louis will come running into his arms and kiss him deeply and with passion. It doesn’t happen, though. Louis is still standing by the front door, his head tilted.

“Do you want to come in?” Louis asks, nudging his head toward the door. “We’re just playing some video games and dicking around. You’ll probably hate it, but you could hang out for a bit?”

Nick grins. He knows there are questioning glances on the other side of that door. There’s an ex-boyfriend who’s going to be very confused and possibly even unhappy about his presence, but there’s also going to be Louis. Nick doesn’t really need to weigh the pros and cons.

He takes the few steps back to Louis, stopping in front of him. “I probably will,” he says, smiling down at the boy. “But I’d really like that.”

Louis grins, too, and as much as Nick is hoping for a kiss or even a hug in the moment, the hand that wraps around his wrist for just a moment, tugging him toward the door, is enough.

* * *

Harry is definitely puzzled by Nick joining them, but Louis doesn’t clarify anything, so Nick doesn’t feel he has to either. He just sits on the sofa and watches the boys play each other in some sort of car racing game, avoiding Harry’s pointed and questioning glances.

When Louis loses to Niall, Nick laughs and teases him and Louis scowls in his direction before tossing a pillow at his face. It’s the best he’s felt in a long time, even without knowing what Louis’ answer is, even with Harry gaping at him from across the room.

He leaves before the other two, not wanting to overstay his welcome. They probably have important boyband things to do, like practicing their hip shimmies or something anyway. When he announces that he’s going to head out, though, Louis pops up from the floor and tosses his controller to Niall, telling him to take over.

Nick says goodbye to the other two and follows Louis to the door. They walk silently to his car and Nick shoves his hands into his pockets to keep him from pulling Louis into him and kissing him like he’s been thinking about ever since the last kiss. It seems so odd that a kiss should mean so much, just lips pressing against lips, but he’s missed the feeling so much, the warmth of Louis’ kiss.

“So,” Louis says once they’ve stopped next to Nick’s car. “Are you okay with Harry knowing there’s been,” he pauses, waving his hand in the air before he finishes his sentence, “something going on with us?”

“Wouldn’t have come in if I wasn’t,” Nick replies honestly. It’s a bit weird, yeah, having his ex-boyfriend watch his new _something_ develop, but it’s a weird situation. With the two of them being so close, it’s bound to be at least a bit awkward. Luckily, though, Nick isn’t going to let that stop him.

“Okay, good, because I have a feeling I’m going to be getting some questions when I go back in there,” Louis says, smirking.

Nick just laughs at that, imagining what Louis’ going to walk back into and hoping it’s not too bad. When his smile softens and Louis is just standing there in front of him, the sun low in the sky, he sighs. He really had missed just looking at him, just being around him.

Without words, Louis moves in and slides his hands over Nick’s shoulders, pressing up against him. After a moment of processing what it is that’s happening, Nick melts into it, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and holding him tightly. Louis’ grip on him is tight, too, his forehead resting on Nick’s shoulder.

“Missed you a lot,” Louis whispers, the words thick and sincere.

Nick breathes out a long, slow breath, overwhelmed by the feeling of Louis in his arms again. “Yeah,” he answers, dropping his chin and pressing his face into the boy’s neck.

They don’t move for several minutes, letting the setting sun blanket them with warmth as they hold each other in the driveway. Nick only dares to move his fingers, tracing circles into Louis’ back as he listens to the rhythm of his breathing.

When they finally part, Louis tells him he’ll text and Nick watches him walk back to the door and disappear inside.

He blasts the radio as he drives home and scream-sings along to it because, all in all, it was a pretty good day.

* * *

The next day his phone vibrates in his pocket while he’s at brunch with Alexa. He puts down his mimosa and fishes it out of his pocket, seeing the name _Louis_ on his screen for the first time in months.

_can i come over later?_

Nick makes himself count to ten before he lets himself respond. _Yeah when??_

 _8?_ Louis texts back a minute later.

Nick takes another sip of his mimosa, staring at his phone, his heart pounding.

“Let me guess,” Alexa drawls. “The illusive new and improved Harry Styles?”

Even though he knows she’s kidding, he can’t help but feel defensive at her words. “He’s not the new and improved Harry Styles, Chung.”

“Oh, come on!” she says with a smile, falling back against the back of her chair. “He’s in the same boyband, he’s Harry’s best friend, you were shagging him. Of course he’s the new and improved Harry Styles.”

“He’s not, though,” Nick says, looking back down at his phone. “He’s- it’s different with him.”

Alexa scoffs lightly. “How?”

Nick smiles in spite of himself and he feels like a complete arse at how gone for this boy he is. “He makes fun of everything I like,” he says with a shrug. “He hates my art and he tells me how dumb he thinks it is that my shampoo costs more than five quid and he rearranges everything in my kitchen cabinets while I’m at work just to frustrate me.”

He sets his phone down and shakes his head, looking up at Alexa, who’s listening with a softer expression now. “He’s a bloody nuisance but he’s thoughtful and he makes me laugh and he’s the type of boy to drive two hours to make sure a bloke he doesn’t care much about is okay when he’s skipped out on his radio show.”

Alexa is staring with a funny expression now, sort of blankly, so Nick shrugs again. “He’s not the new and improved Harry Styles, Lex. He’s completely, one hundred percent Louis Tomlinson.”

When Alexa finally breaks her stunned silence, it’s with a shaking head and wide eyes. “God, it’s weird seeing you in love,” she says with a whoosh of air, “at least when you actually show it.”

Nick doesn’t acknowledge her statement, doesn’t make an attempt to correct her. He goes back to picking at his omelette, glad when the subject eventually changes.

* * *

Five minutes after eight, there’s a knock on Nick’s door. The previous day has left him hopeful, but there’s still some doubt swirling around in his mind. Louis had ample opportunity to kiss him or confirm that he wants to give this a shot, but he didn’t. He might have just wanted some time to think, but maybe Nick’s missing something.

When he opens the door, Louis’ there and Nick has grown so used to the feeling of happiness and relief that warms through him at the sight. It’s been a long time, but the feeling is familiar, as present as ever. He immediately notes that Louis hasn’t got his knapsack, though, which he figures means the boy won’t be staying. Nick had gotten his hopes up that he wouldn’t have to fall asleep alone again tonight.

“Hi,” Nick says, standing back to let Louis in.

But instead of walking by, Louis steps right up to Nick and kisses him.

Nick is only stunned for a second before he sighs into Louis’ mouth and pulls him in, kissing him back with every ounce of need and desperation he’s been feeling for three months now. He brings his hands to the sides of Louis’ neck, holding on as he pushes into it, feeling the give of Louis’ soft lips under his own.

The door is still open and Nick kicks his leg out to shut it, and then he pulls Louis along as he backs up into it. He doesn’t want to stop this, not ever, not even to breathe. Louis seems to have different priorities, though, and he pulls away after a minute, breath heavy on Nick’s lips.

Nick’s skin already stings from the roughness of Louis’ scruff and he absently brings a hand up to touch his chin, leaning back enough to look into the boy’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Louis says breathlessly, his eyes bright. “Just felt like growing a beard.”

Nick shakes his head, still a little stunned that he’s pressed between a door and Louis again, that he’s got the taste of Louis’ lips on his again. “I like it,” he says, moving the hand on his chin to Louis’ face and dragging his fingers over the coarse hair. “I like you, too.”

Louis rolls his eyes, always does, and pushes up to kiss Nick again, softer this time. “I like you, too, apparently,” he whispers between presses of lips that make Nick’s head spin. “Haven’t got a clue why.”

Nick smiles into the next kiss, cupping Louis’ jaw and holding him still as they kiss long and slow and soft, the closest thing to euphoria Nick’s experienced. And he’s been hopped up on strong prescription medication and dabbled in recreational drugs. He’s had his share of euphoric experiences, but it just doesn’t compare to this.

When the skin around Nick’s lips is burning pleasantly and he’s been breathing Louis’ air for ten minutes, they finally pull apart, looking into each other’s eyes.

“I’m not staying,” Louis says with a little smile. “I just wanted to ask, like, what it is you’re offering? What’s on the table?”

He looks the tiniest bit nervous and Nick fights the urge to kiss him again, to press him back against the wall and not stop kissing him until he realizes there’s nothing to be nervous about with him. He doesn’t do that, of course, figures this is one of those times when words are preferable to tongues.

“Buffet style,” Nick answers, trailing his thumb over the curve of Louis’ neck until it catches on his t-shirt. “It’s pretty much all on the table. You can pick and choose what you want.”

Louis nods slowly, biting down on his lip for a moment before he lets it slide out from between his teeth. “So, if I wanted a date?” he asks softly. “That’s on the table?”

Nick’s heart flips a little in his chest. “Very much on the table.”

It’s all over the fucking table, honestly. Nick’s never been good at dating, always been anxious about it, but with everything that’s happened over the past year and a half, his anxiety is quieter now. People fall in love and they date and it usually ends, but while it’s good, it’s really fucking good. He still has fond memories of being with Harry, still remembers how nice it was to relax and let his walls come down a bit. With Louis, his walls were down from the start, from that very first night. He’s ready.

“If I wanted more than a date?” Louis asks carefully.

Nick rolls his eyes this time, moving his hand up to push through Louis’ hair, longer now than it was the last time he did this. “I told you it was yours, you idiot,” he answers quietly. “I meant that.”

Louis stares for a long moment and Nick thinks maybe he’s pushed too far. It’s a big deal, what he’s offering, he knows that. It’s fucking huge and a little scary and maybe Louis isn’t feeling as brave as him.

But then he leans in and Nick has lips on his again, soft and still, barely even a kiss. “I have to go,” he whispers, making Nick’s heart sink. “Promised Liam I’d come by to work on the new songs.”

Nick swallows, not sure what to say. Louis is so unpredictable and Nick always feels a bit off balance around him. He loves it, though, loves the thrill of never knowing what will happen next. He just wishes had a general idea now.

“How about Thursday?” he asks, leaning back.

Nick furrows his brow, not understanding. “Thursday for what?”

Louis slides his hands down over Nick’s shoulders, resting them over his elbows. “For a date.”

He’s not sure what kind of date Louis is expecting, but it doesn’t matter. “Yeah, Thursday’s good,” he says, feeling his spirits lift. So, they’re doing this. They’re really doing this. “Do you want to go out then? Or I could cook?”

Louis smiles and squeezes his arms. “Doesn’t matter. We could just sit on your sofa and snog all night and I’d be fine with that.”

“I’ve heard worse plans,” Nick says, tipping forward to kiss Louis again.

They kiss for another couple of minutes, like they’re trying to make up for lost time. But then Louis says he really has to leave and, with one last kiss, he leaves, promising to see Nick Thursday.

Long after he’s gone, Nick can still feel the skin around his mouth burning and he fails in his attempts to not think about what that burn would feel like in other places. His neck, his stomach, his thighs. He looks forward to finding out.

* * *

When Thursday comes, Nick cooks pasta and they eat on the sofa and then lick the taste of marinara sauce out of each other’s mouths. When Louis pushes Nick back, he goes willingly, letting Louis climb over him as they kiss. He pushes his hands to the boy’s hips, tracing his curves with his palms.

“You should know I definitely do put out on the first date,” Louis says, moving his mouth down to Nick’s neck.

Nick hisses when Louis bites down, his dick filling out embarrassingly quickly between the sharp scratch of his scruff and the dull bite of his teeth. “Thank god for that,” he mumbles back, tilting his head to give Louis more access.

Louis breathes out a laugh and scrapes his teeth over the skin again, humming happily when Nick gasps in response. “Bedroom then?”

Nick doesn’t have to answer before Louis is pulling him up and leading him to the bedroom. It’s oddly satisfying having Louis lead him around his own home, almost like it’s his, too.

In the bedroom, they undress each other and then fall onto the bed in their pants, landing side by side. Nick slips an arm around his bare waist and pulls him in closer, feeling dizzy. He’s missed this so much, having Louis in his bed, touching his skin and pressing against him like this.

He trails his hand down to Louis hips and slips his fingers under the waistband, leaning in to kiss him again as his hand moves further under the material, sliding over the curve of his arse. He feels so content, just having Louis’ skin under his fingers.

“Have I mentioned I missed you?” he asks, shifting over to nose at Louis’ jaw, pressing little kisses to it.

“Yeah? Prove it then.”

Nick takes the challenge gladly, pushing Louis onto his back and crawling over him. He takes his time kissing down the boy’s neck to his chest. He peppers the tanned skin with kisses, drawing a trail down his stomach with his lips. When he hits the material of Louis’ pants, he leans back on his knees, bringing his fingers to the waistband.

Louis stops him, though, dropping his hands over Nick’s. He opens his mouth, but no words come out and Nick is confused as to what the problem is. After a moment of hesitation, though, he slowly pulls his hands away, giving Nick a small nod to continue on.

Nick has no idea what that was, why Louis would hesitate about him taking off his pants. He’s never been shy about being naked in front of him before, but Nick doesn’t ask. He very slowly peels the waistband down, watching for any sign that he should stop.

What he sees instead makes him lose his breath. Next to the broken heart on his hip is a fresh tattoo, another heart. This one hasn’t been broken yet.

Nick stares for a long moment, trying to get his head around what it is that he’s seeing. He thinks he knows. In fact, the longer he stares at it, the more sure he is.

“I didn’t want to give it to you before,” Louis says softly, the room suddenly seeming so quiet. Nick looks up and sees careful hesitance in the boy’s expression. “When you needed to be paying attention to your own. Didn’t think that would be fair to either of us.”

Nick is sure he should be saying something, but no words come. Instead he pushes himself up and kisses Louis, hoping his lips will convey whatever the mess in his head is.

He’s not even panicking, actually. If it were a different situation and the permanence of the tattoo was supposed to represent the permanence of _them_ , he would probably be running out of his own home. But he remembers Louis’ story. He knows this heart can be broken, too.

“Try to take care of it,” Louis says between kisses, the words sounding like a plea.

Nick breathes against Louis’ lips for a moment before leaning back and looking into his eyes, amazed at how much he sees there. His gaze slips down to Louis’ hip and he drags his thumb over the new tattoo, swallowing heavily.

“I will,” he says, flicking his gaze back up to Louis’ face. “I’ll really try.” He’s not sure he’ll be perfect, not sure he won’t fuck up again, but he wants to be good for Louis.

He’s not stupid. He knows most relationships end and the odds of that heart on his hip ending up with a jagged line through the middle of it are high, but he also knows this is worth the risk, this feeling he has now.

If it doesn’t work out, he’ll deal with that when it comes. He hopes he’ll leave fewer bruises, at least. Keep the damage to a minimum.

“In case it wasn’t obvious,” Louis says, lifting his hand to rest behind Nick’s ear, fingers nestling into his hair, “my answer is yes. I do want it. Scars and all.”

Nick smiles, surprised by how calm he feels about this. He’s not replaying the past, not terrified of the future. He’s just here, in bed with a boy who has somehow become his best friend and then some, a boy who seems to have taken his heart.

_I asked if you have someone._

Nick makes a note to text Matt in the morning with his belated response. It turns out he does.


End file.
